Cadenza
by Hayden Crewe
Summary: While whispers of Gozaburo's return evolve in the outside world, Seto is trapped in Pegasus's dungeon, forced to choose between his demons in the flesh and those beyond the grave. Warnings Inside, rating will go up in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer and Warnings:** I write "read at your own risk" fiction. Do not read on if you are triggered by blood, traumatic injury, physical, psychological, or sexual abuse, and/or profanity among other things. Most material considered sensitive can be found. None of my stories reflect my actual world views and habits or those I condone for others.

* * *

He hummed absently as he worked.

Pinch with one hand, push with the other.

"You know," he mused, holding the needle so it gleamed in the remaining light, "It won't be any fun if you do the work for me."

The slack body heaved on the table, supine, hands, abdomen, and ankles secured with rope. Sedative trumped adrenaline. Violent tremors faded into shuddering breaths.

"Shh..." He pushed a mop of sweat-soaked hair from the delicate forehead, moving the candle closer to the gash along his collar. "The less you struggle, the less it'll hurt." He held the skin together as well as he could with one hand, using the other to stitch. "Don't tense now."

What would've taken a trained professional a matter of seconds spanned twenty minutes. The cut was jagged and irregular from the struggle. How he'd managed to shatter the window, Pegasus still wasn't sure, but it mattered little. He was relieved the glass hadn't been embedded a few inches higher.

Satisfied with the work, he wet a nearby rag with alcohol and moved to clean the wound a final time.

A moan of protest almost stopped him.

For the kind of fight he put up, it'd taken longer than expected for him to start chewing through the gag.

Pegasus took a fistful of hair in his free hand to stop the boy from avoiding his eyes. "Don't scream," he whispered darkly, and pressed down.

Seto couldn't move his head to avoid Pegasus's gaze or the alcohol's burn. Unable to grit his teeth, another moan slipped out as his shoulders rolled back against the table—the only defense he could manage. The sting hurt less than the first time with the gash raw and open, but the pained groan couldn't be restrained.

A gentle shushing from above, and the hand in his hair slackened in its grip. If Pegasus wanted him to be quiet, he should have picked a more effective gag. Given a bit longer and maybe a touch less observation, Seto could get it loose enough to speak through.

Besides, his message had to be easy to understand through his forced gaze.

The flame from the candle flickered closer to Seto. A combination of the pain and the sedative he hadn't been able to fight off kept him from leaning away.

Pegasus finished quickly, and with no further use for the rag, dropped it to his feet. "Is your face permanently fixed in that glare? I can't tell if the drugs are kicking in or wearing off."

He loosened his hold on Seto's hair until his fingers laid lightly in it, then moved to stroke the tresses that fell over his forehead. He made one such motion before the head turned away.

Kicking in, he decided, but not enough to put him out.

"It's such a shame this didn't go as planned. I could've at least moved you to a holding cell." He chuckled, gesturing to the dungeon just beyond the door, "But," the lilt in his voice rose an octave, "It wouldn't be an authentic meeting if I wasn't on my toes." He moved from his seat, standing a bit taller than usual in the mocking pose.

He made a show of cracking his neck before bending just far enough to keep himself at eye level with the table, retrieving a bag from the floor. "No one can hear you all the way down here." He didn't mind talking to the back of the boy's head for the time being. "No one but me, of course."

He fumbled for a moment with the video camera, adjusting the audio before pressing play. The red light to signal its recording mingled with the glow of the candle. "Look here, Seto. I'll get that gag out of our way."

Pegasus grabbed Seto's jaw to force his head back, fingers working their way around the damp material of the gag before pulling it away. His jaw stayed slack while he readjusted to the allowed movement. Flexing a few times, he dared a glance back toward Pegasus, only to find a dim red light staring at him.

"What're you doing?"

His mouth and throat were dry after having the gag in for so long. The words spilled out heavy and thick, but were met with another hum and the muted drip of water.

Seto lifted his head as much as his restraints would allow, squinting through the darkness at the stone walls. Maybe no one could hear him. It didn't mean he could scream, not with the camera watching him.

His head was too heavy to hold up for long. He dropped back down and tilted back his head, trying to shake his hair out of his eyes. The dry crust of salt had built up around the corners of his eyes, from the sweat and the fight.

Pegasus adjusted the video camera, moving it a little closer before settling on a position. His polite smile waited on Seto.

Although he just regained his ability to speak, Seto tightened his jaw and refused to put on a show. His frustration vented itself in the slight tug at the rope around a wrist, but nothing more. Pegasus would have to struggle as much as Seto to get whatever he wanted.

"You're always so _stressed_ Kaiba-boy." A softened hand brushed the matted hair from around the brunet's ear. He didn't seem coherent enough to bite, but he hadn't seemed strong enough to break a car window either. "Relax. Take a load off!"

He set his elbows on the table, narrowly avoiding a smear of his captive's blood, and laced his fingers under his chin. "Mm, tough crowd this morning, aren't we? I suppose it was foolish to expect anything else, but you're not usually quiet when you're grumpy."

The room was silent save the whisper of a word creeping up from Seto's throat. A desired effect of the understatement, even if it never passed the boy's lips.

"You won't understand it now, but trust me when I say—" His gaze darkened as the camera automatically refocused itself. As long as it was on, it would track any semblance of movement from Seto. "Well, of course you don't trust me, but do _believe_ me Seto, when I say this is all for the best. There are more than a few people who need you, or rather KC, to...lay low."

He unfolded his hands and gave the boy's shoulder a little shake to ensure he wouldn't fall asleep on him before the session was over. "Don't." He growled when blue pierced his tranquil gaze. "Don't you look at me like that." He looked down for a brief moment before the easy smile found its way to his face. A single swing of his foot, the distinct clatter of metal against stone, and Seto was alert again.

He leaned a little closer, face hallowed by the light of the candle. "It could've been Mokuba."

At the mention of Mokuba's name, Seto jerked at the ropes again, finding the one on his right hand a bit looser than the left. With Pegasus's gaze so intent, Seto stopped tugging at it.

"You're lying."

Pegasus's chuckle shook the table. The movement jolted Seto's head, a little reminder of the cut on his neck, but Seto shifted his shoulder down and kept his focus on Pegasus.

"You couldn't have taken Mokuba and kept me and KaibaCorp down. Don't drag him into this."

Breathing tightened the ropes around his waist, preventing Seto from taking the full, deep breaths he needed to keep his calm. And being unable to breathe, Seto's heart picked up, fighting against the sedative that hadn't been as strong as he feared when he first saw the needle. The mix of the sedative and adrenaline only slowed his screaming thoughts.

Before Pegasus had the chance to make another threat, Seto decided to change the subject, to get it away from Mokuba. Whatever this was, Mokuba didn't need to be involved.

"And you're in charge of forcing me to 'lay low?'"

"Really Kaiba, I'm surprised." Pegasus's words were barely a whisper.

His eyes followed Seto's movements, from the strain in his chest as he pulled for breath, to the focus in his eyes as he let it out slow...ly through his nose. "You forget our history. Everyone knew you'd fight, but who else would've been prepared for it?"

He took a moment to change the settings on the camera to avoid it auto-focusing on Seto's torso, then stretched his legs out as far as he could manage while straightening his back against the chair again. Seto couldn't stay bound to the table all day, but another shot of sedative was out of the question until his system had worked through more of what he'd already been given.

He didn't want to bring suits into this sooner than he absolutely had to, but he would if it came to that. Something about the clumsiness of hired muscle just burrowed under his skin. The clunk of their shoes, heaviness of their footfall, scrambling of their movements—so quick, so frantic even when practiced—not nearly graceful enough to savor the reactions of the human body against their own.

That was it.

Holding people was an _art._

They lacked _finesse._

"Anyway, let's take one thing at a time. Get comfortable." He smirked despite himself. "You're the one always going on about real plans taking patience."

New sweat was forming at Seto's hairline, and though he didn't show it, Pegasus was beginning to worry.

"Settle down," he chided lightly, "We're done with the pain unless you manage to injure yourself again."

The table shook with the tensing of Seto's hands and Pegasus instinctively reached out to trace the fingers of the one closest to him with his own. "If your panic becomes a danger, I'll have to call someone down to remedy it." The tighter the fists clenched in response to his touch, the more gentle it became. "Understand?"

Seto couldn't get enough air into his lungs to manage a scoff, and his body tried to take bigger breaths than he was capable. The result came out in rough breaths that struck against his teeth, too much like panting. He gave himself a moment, really no more than a second or two, to get it settled.

There had been a question, but he took it for rhetorical. Of course he didn't understand, not fully. And he certainly wouldn't admit to panic. Even the minor detail of no upcoming pain did nothing to quell the trepidation.

Pegasus's fingers continued stroking Seto's hand, his left one, the one too tightly bound to pull away. They brushed up against his hip; whether accidental or not, Seto couldn't tell.

"Stop _touching_ me."

His emphasis sounded more of air than anger, and the gentle tracings moved up to his wrist, gliding over the skin where it met the rope. He should have worn the trenchcoat that day, because at least then he would have the bracers to protect him from the touch.

He had been wearing a watch. His tie had been taken soon after the cut on his neck. Seto wished he had thought to rip out the glass to use in his defense rather than leave in the thick shard to staunch the bleeding.

"Wouldn't have pegged you as the hired help."

"Well, that's petty even for you. We both know I only do what I see fit, as I see fit." He stopped stroking and stood to full height, "I can see we'll have to do something about these nerves, but this table is very much in the way. Note to self: buy narrow tables—body shelves—? Oh, semantics."

Seto's eyes closed reflextively against the assault of his own, and Pegasus knew then, as if he hadn't before, that the drugs were doing most of the talking. This really wasn't how he expected the day to go. Kaiba was too stubborn to sleep off the bulk of the drugs and likely had a heavier dose coming that would eliminate his every choice in the matter.

The tremors of his body shook the table, its legs vibrating sporadically as he tried to force his body to obey his mind. Pegasus made a few tender hushing noises as he tried to settle on a course of action. It might not be necessary to sedate Seto further with the help of two or three armed men.

If he could scarcely control his breathing, how much fight could he have left?

"You've had enough for now," he decided, "Give me a minute to make some arrangements and I'll let you rest." He moved to his original seat long enough to turn off the camera and pull a flashlight from the bag on the floor, then resumed standing by Seto's head. "Before I go, I need you to calm down a little. I don't want you working yourself into a coughing fit and choking on me." He pressed a hand to the boy's forehead. Too warm. "Tame your breaths as well as you can. Count if you have to. In-hale, Ex-hale." He tapped a finger lightly on the forehead to punctuate each syllable, sending a fresh wave of dizziness through Seto's body.

"Look at me," he said at last, "I'm coming right back for you. Okay? I'll come back."

With that, he bent to blow out the candle, and, facing the flashlight away from Seto, let it guide him to the main level of the castle.

Once the footsteps faded, Seto started on the loose rope around his wrist. The drugs seemed to clump in his veins, but he didn't need his strength so much as he needed to ease the rope out of whatever knot it had been tied in.

Pegasus wouldn't be gone long, and without the light, even the dim cast the candle had provided, Seto couldn't see how he would get all of the ropes undone. But having an arm free would be better than staying tied down.

He rocked his wrist forward and back, searching for any give in the knot. His fingers reached around to feel for it, but it must have been tied at the back of his wrist. So Seto bent his hand in toward himself, hopefully pressing against the knot he couldn't see.

If Pegasus hadn't blown out that candle, he could have burned his way out of this.

Pegasus had promised 'a minute' and being 'right back.' The timeline was too short, but whatever arrangements needed to be made couldn't have been on the dungeon level. Seto remembered how extensive they were, so maybe he had more time than he thought. It was just four knots.

The rope slacked as much as Seto expected it would. He pulled his arm up with all the force he had left, clenching his teeth to fight off the dry scratching of the rope as it took his skin with it. His thumb got the worst of the burn, but once it scraped through, the rest of his hand followed easily.

He went for the rope around his waist, closing his eyes to better focus his effort on finding the knot. His fingers trailed from one end of the table to the other. Nothing.

He bit back his curse, unwilling to make any sound, and went for his other hand. The knot there was in the same place, but before starting on it, Seto gave the rope a small tug. He felt the resistance immediately and took that to mean it was tied off to one of the legs in the center of the table.

The knot was more of a challenge than he expected. One of the ropes from around his waist looped through it, likely what kept him from moving his hand to either side. It took at least a minute for Seto to figure that out, so a minute wasted.

But eventually, his left hand came free with the knot.

He paused only long enough to make sure the phantom footsteps he heard were imagined before feeling down the sides of the table for the knot holding his body down. The two ends might have met underneath. Instead, Seto grabbed the rope with both hands and pulled to get a feel for how much slack there was. It had been tied tightly enough to affect his breathing, but now that his hands weren't attached to it, he had maybe an inch of space.

He could work with it.

He bent his knees as best as he could with his ankles tied down and began to slide underneath the rope. It caught on his shirt and Seto had to keep moving buttons out of the way, but slowly, he gained ground.

At the opposite end of the dungeon an identical room was being prepared, save the table which was swapped for a bed, and the functional lightbulb hanging fixtureless from the ceiling. Pegasus was no longer in the frame of mind to imagine what the room had been intended and might still come to be used for. He'd expected to rile Kaiba up a little before having him moved, not send him into a panic attack.

He waved a hand to hurry the three men down the corridor ahead of him, the dim light of electric wall torches casting their shadows much further than they'd walked. Croquet left Seto's bucket near the threshold of the door before removing its inside handle.

"Let's go," Pegasus sang out, wringing his hands. It would've been foolish to leave the boy completely unguarded—several armed men barricaded the doors to the main floors of the castle—but it'd been too long for comfort. His confident strides nearly pulsed. The graying head of security opened his mouth to tell him to relax, sending him a sideways glance through his shades, but decided against it.

Instead, he merely quickened his own pace to keep ahead of Pegasus. He'd made a promise long ago to be a shield if he needed to, and given the master's strange taste in company, figured he was past due to make good on it.

* * *

Seto worked the rope over his shoes, trying not to hold his breath as he freed his ankles. The silence was relentless and unforgiving; he couldn't afford to breathe any heavier. The room spun even as he sat still, straining hard to make out any traces of movement through the drum of his heartbeat.

He tried to recall the layout of Pegasus's dungeon, but the memories blurred at the edges. Each scene produced identical passageways to Mokuba's terrified eyes. No distinction, no direction. Bangs fell into his face as he shook his head to clear it. There was no time left to fight against the drugs. The best he could do was acknowledge he was walking blind.

Even free of the restraints his chest was tight. He choked for every breath, allowing himself just one through the mouth as he swung both legs over the table and eased himself onto the floor.

He felt it before he could stop it.

The entire slab of wood shifted with the weight of his body, bringing the table up on two legs in an awkward slant. He pressed his back against it, but the stiffness in his legs and residual numbness from the drugs made his knees weak. He fell to the floor, and despite his bracing against the table to muffle the impact of being flipped on its side, it connected with the floor in a heavy 'thud' that may as well have been a gunshot.


	2. Chapter 2

Seto heard one word before he forced himself into action.

"Shit!"

He threw a hand back, knocking his palm against the wood harshly to feel for its edge. It was a pathetic line of defense, but if he could get back to his feet, he could at least hide behind it.

He picked out the faint echo of footsteps as he sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself to stand. Stepping with his right foot made his whole leg tingle, so he focused most of his weight on his left.

Before lights appeared in the distance, illuminating the doorway, his shoe connected with whatever Pegasus had kicked earlier. He paused only long enough to feel for it. Its edge cut the index finger of his right hand and he pressed it into the handle to stop the minimal bleeding.

A knife.

With a weapon in hand, Seto squinted through the darkness at the room. One door, one exit, not even closed. But light and footsteps stormed his way, too close for him to run without running into them.

He braced himself against the table that wouldn't protect him so much as give him a few extra seconds. He tried pushing it, but just forced a wobble. With how close the footsteps sounded, he couldn't use it to barricade the door in time.

The mysterious 'they' needed him to lay low; Pegasus never mentioned killing him, but it didn't mean he wouldn't. The wooden table had been thick enough to support his weight. It might slow down a bullet, although guns never seemed much like Pegasus's style.

His hands shook with the strength of his grip on the knife. For a moment he considered moving, taking position by the door to take a swing at the first person to come through, but his arms already drooped under the sedative. He might not have the force needed to implant the knife into anyone's chest and pull it back out. And anyone looking at him would see that any exertion could send him into unconsciousness, which ruled out the simple act of showing them he had a knife.

Even Pegasus should have known better than to leave a weapon.

So he stayed in the shadow behind the table and watched as the floor grew brighter on either side. That brought up another issue. He could be approached from either direction, maybe at the same time. With the number of footsteps now near enough to count, fighting back seemed less plausible. Seto moved one arm across his waist and hid the knife behind it, clutched in his other hand. Maybe he would get lucky and Pegasus would approach first.

The world behind his eyes shone red instead of black. A light flicked on overhead, sending a jolt of agony through his temples. His head swam as he tracked the footsteps.

Click, echo, disappear.

"You've gotta be kidding."

The first man to enter the room sounded like a rookie, but Seto couldn't force his body to move before it counted so there was no way to confirm it. He craned his neck as far as he could to peer beyond the table without giving himself away.

Pegasus was nowhere in sight.

"What's going on?"

But he recognized that voice, like gravel.

"He flipped the whole fucking table." The obviously younger man grunted after he spoke, brandishing his pistol. "I thought you gave him a double?" Seto's mind wasn't working at full capacity, but the statement still made him uneasy. What was Pegasus trying to pull?

The second prompting of the familiar voice brought a name but not a face. Croquet, Pegasus's feeble equivalent of Isono. "Slight miscalculation," he said, stepping close enough that Seto caught the outline of his black suit before he turned in the direction of the doorway again. "What are your orders, sir?"

Pegasus stepped lightly, as if he pranced instead of walked. Even in the haze of pain and exhaustion, Seto sensed the man's anger building.

"How cute..." Pegasus purred, "He's playing hide and seek."

"Sir, I'll have to ask you-"

"Relax," Pegasus cut in, his tone a note sharper than usual, "That won't be necessary." He made a vague gesture to the taser in Croquet's hand.

They couldn't take a chance with Seto's heart, not when it was already overstimulated by the drugs and struggle.

He side-stepped the head of security, who followed on his heels around the right side of the table. Pegasus tutted at Seto's crumpled form, but kept himself painfully still. Crawford's crouching form blocked a little of the light and Seto's eyes focused as sharply as they could on the approaching body.

He leaned close enough for Seto to feel warm breath against his skin, and in one swift motion Seto thrust the knife forward.

"Ah, ah," Pegasus chided, grabbing his wrist and twisting in what he thought should break the younger's grip.

Seto held fast to the weapon. Escape wasn't possible, but he wasn't about to surrender free movement again. He wasn't in a position to kick Pegasus, and with the little strength he could muster while keeping the blade clutched tight, it would feel more like a nudge anyway. He jabbed his hand forward, settling for any impact he could make, even on the arm vying for his last semblance of an upper hand.

"Sir?" Seto watched from his peripheral vision as Croquet raised the taser, but paid it no mind. He couldn't use something like that with Pegasus hovering over him the way he was, latched on as if _his_ life depended on the outcome.

A new wave of fury swept over him and he jerked his arm back violently, knocking Pegasus off-balance and on top of him as Seto's back clapped against the floor. The knife caught the red blazer, but with only enough force to graze the fabric. Pegasus shifted his weight to the wrist holding Seto's and finally broke the younger's hold.

"You're causing a lot of trouble for someone who so graciously kept you alive." He panted, bringing the knife to Seto's throat. "But don't you worry, you'll be worth it."

Each breath of air burned furiously. Seto's eyes blurred with moisture as he tried to steady his racing heart. He could still get out of this; he just had to think. The man's name was on his lips, but he couldn't get it out. The blade caressed his skin, too close.

Everything was too close.

"I'll make sure you're worth it."

The knife followed Seto's movements as he tried to slide away. His chin tilted back from it, but his gaze stayed locked with Pegasus, or rather, the three blurry images of him.

"What the fu-" The knife pressed down in warning, breaking the skin right above the other wound. "-does that mean?"

His hands looked for purchase on the floor, only brushing up against the scattered rope at the foot of the table. He stopped moving once he found it. Being surrounded, Seto knew his chances of getting out were almost nonexistent, but he wouldn't let Pegasus get away unscathed.

"I told you to stop touching me," Seto said. Rather than lean back from the knife, he moved toward it, embedding it deeper into his skin until drops of blood rolled down the side of his neck, over the stitches Pegasus had just applied.

As focused in on Pegasus's expression as he was, Seto picked out the widening of his eye and the tauting of his mouth. A sharp "Sir!" came from somewhere in Croquet's direction which both Pegasus and Seto ignored.

Seto kept their gazes locked and his neck against the knife that Pegasus still hadn't moved. His left hand wrapped the rope around his knuckles and squeezed it between his fingers. While masking his movements as putting more pressure on the knife, Seto shifted his weight so his right side held the majority.

He leaned too far forward and nicked himself more than he had intended, flinching at the sudden tear. Pegasus withdrew the blade enough that Seto couldn't cut himself on it anymore. His features faded from shocked to amused and Seto wouldn't accept that smug face leering down at him anymore.

With his fingers clenched and the rope surrounding his knuckles, he narrowed his eyes so the three images merged into one and swung up his fist with all his strength, landing squarely on Pegasus's jaw.

Pegasus's face throbbed on impact, teeth gritting against each other. Seto was too close and too weak to hit with any real strength, but it was enough to send the knife clattering across the room. Pegasus's guttural moan evolved into growling as he realized what'd happened. He blinked heavily and touched the chaffed skin of his cheek where the rope had dug in.

The other hand shot out like a viper for Seto's fist, but his men were too quick. Seto winced as he was ripped from floor to feet. He knew Croquet couldn't read his thoughts, but he was just as smug proving _he_ was not the feeble one between them.

Seto's face connected hard with the stone wall. He tried to turn his head to face Pegasus, but with three men pinning him down he could barely open his eyes. His lashes fluttered against the stone, lungs contracting pitifully, desperately, for breath.

His body moved without his consent, but there was nothing he could do to fight back anymore. They fitted his ankles with tight, heavy shackles he could only assume would be chained to something. Mokuba's face came flooding back.

Everything ached.

How long had he kept Mokuba down here? What sick things had Pegasus done to his brother? Seto's mind whirred with torture Mokuba might have repressed, abuse he'd been too ashamed to speak about, even if he wanted to. His eyes burned even as the light dimmed and his line of vision tunneled into the generic corridor of the dungeon.

"Take these."

A flare of red and black in his peripheral vision. More shackles?

What was the point of...

He swallowed thickly and tried not to wish for saliva to coat his mouth or throat.

 _Oh._

His wrists.

He twisted as much as he could in the awkward line of their hold, but got nowhere. They pulled him back and out of the room, down the dark stone hallway. After a minute, the slowing of their pace meant they were nearing their destination.

He was almost out of time.

But shackles meant the handcuffs would come off, even for a moment.

He tried to stop walking long enough to brush hips with the men at either side, feeling for weapons, but they shoved him forward.

"We'll get it right this time," the rookie joked.

Pegasus nodded sagely from behind. "Pad them with something interesting," he spat, "Rusted nails, barbed wire." Seto heard him fishing something from his pocket, or else rustling the fabric of his blazer. "After all, what's a fight without a little...incentive?"

Not finding what he was looking for, Pegasus headed back the way they had come.

Seto's right ankle gave under each step, but the guards who held him up wouldn't relent to give him a moment to find a surer pace. The constant movement seemed to wake the sedative, mixing it more until the rows of electric torches dragged together into a long, bright line. Another step and his knee gave.

"Watch it!" one of the guards said, jerking Seto back up and a few feet forward.

Without his arms to balance him, Seto bumped into the guard who had yelled, taking the chance to double-check for weapons, but still unable to feel out any.

The cuff rubbed at his already-raw wrists, and Pegasus's mention of adding something more caused Seto's hands to clench. He couldn't be worth anything dead, and he trusted that even Pegasus in his insanity would recognize that nails or wire might cut through his wrists.

What a way to go—unintentionally slit wrists. He wondered if Mokuba would find out, what Mokuba thought about Seto's current absence, how Pegasus thought it could have ever been Mokuba.

They had been talking, Seto realized, but he must have started listening in toward the end of the conversation. Blood pulsed in his ears, and as soon as Seto paid it attention, his head flushed cold and his vision black.

His next sensation was hitting the floor, his head cracking against the cool stone. For a moment, the pain from his neck, wrists, ankle, and chest disappeared, replaced with a pleasant nothingness. It came back, joined with a sharp ache from his head and the buzz of voices flooding around him.

Seto felt someone kneel beside him. His hands numbed underneath him and the metal from the cuffs dug into his back. He tried to sit up, but his head spun and he fell again.

"What do we do? He's...I think he's bleeding."

Croquet side-stepped Branning to Seto's limp body, pushing Seto's hair back as much as he could without disturbing his neck. Blood matted the tresses in a slow stream. "Get Hadley down here," he ordered. Marcus Hadley was a fellow bodyguard, but doubled as a paramedic. When Croquet finally passed his prime, Hadley was the man favored to take his place.

"You get him chained up. We don't want any more surprises."

Branning, though far from the rookie Seto assumed him to be, was too shaken to move. "Y'don't think he planned that, do ya? With all the talk about how he'd-"

"I don't know," Croquet cut in, doing his best to tune out the other man's words as he rechecked Seto's still rapid pulse. "It doesn't matter to us," he concluded, braving a glance over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps he knew came too soon to be the ones he was waiting on.

"Mr. Pegasus." Croquet rose to full height, unable to do much before he knew if it was safe to move Seto and fit the rest of the restraints.

"What happened?"

"We thought his stumbling around was for show, sir, but he blacked out. Hit his head on the way down."

Pegasus bit back a thousand stinging remarks. How many men did it take to catch a limp body? Not a foot from their grasp, no less. "Where is-"

"Behind you," Hadley called with a practiced note of urgency as he weaved through the sea of men. "Someone bring a light closer, too many shadows."

Croquet, despite being the only man of higher rank, obliged him. "Kid's a fighter," he warned, and at this Branning found the nerve to kneel beside Seto, ready to shackle his wrists.

"I'd leave him cuffed for now," Hadley said. He did a quick examination and gave the okay for Seto to be moved into the cell, propping him against the wall as best he could. "Neck and back are fine, thankfully, but we can't rule out a concussion. Not sure how long it'll be 'til he rouses, but I'll know without much trouble then. Want me to wait it out?"

"No," Pegasus replied in a tone that said: don't argue. "Leave us, all of you. You've done enough."

Hadley worked himself back to his feet, letting his tongue trail over his teeth as he chose his words. "All right," he relented as Croquet took a step toward the stretch of dungeon. "Call me if he vomits."

Pegasus watched them go, making sure the torches were returned, but didn't close the door. He bent to Seto long enough to inspect the gash on his head before taking a seat on the bed.

The red light of the camera flashed once, then stayed on.

"Alone again."


	3. Chapter 3

Seto heard his groan before he realized where it came from. His head pulsed like his brain was kicking its way out through his skull, and the world around him spun.

He picked up a creaking in front of him, no voices, no footsteps. If he had been out any time at all, he assumed they would have moved him to somewhere more secure. The rough wall behind him indicated that they were still in the dungeons, scratching at the back of his head as he tried rolling it to the side. The air carried the same smell as the previous room, a mixture of humidity and mildew.

A tug on his wrist. Still cuffed, but the narrow bands of metal suggested handcuffs, not shackles. He checked his ankles and found them restrained as they had been. But his breaths came in and out as steady as his pulse. He must have slept off the worst of the sedative.

Seto cracked open his eyes and winced, the dim light of the room too much for him. He forced them the rest of the way open, spotting Pegasus first, then the camera, red dot glaring. He thought of a thousand questions, even more insults to throw Pegasus's way, but left them in his muddled head while he gathered his wits.

He had passed out.

His gaze drifted away from Pegasus, who didn't seem in a rush for Seto to wake, but sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a foot and picking at a thumbnail. Seto could get to him shortly, once his mind and tongue gathered on the same team.

The light bulb caught his attention first. It dangled down over Pegasus's head, easily within reach. The walls and ceiling were the same damp stone, no windows, but not an actual dungeon cell like Mokuba had been held in.

He had too, but he didn't have any memories of it other than waking up.

He spotted a bucket by the open door, a rusty metal thing with an even rustier handle. Aside from it, the bed was the only other thing in the room.

When he glanced back toward Pegasus, the man's attention was back on him, although he still messed with a fingernail.

"I'm not pissing in a bucket."

Pegasus's hair caught the light as he adjusted his position. "Perhaps your least favorite corner would make a better alternative. Moisture just _vanishes_ -" he snapped his fingers in demonstration, "-down here."

Seto shifted so he was sitting straighter against the wall, wincing as pain seared through his right ankle down to his toes. Every thought was shrouded in fog. If the sedative was wearing off enough to refocus the pain, why couldn't he _think?_

"You'll find your stay much more enjoyable once you're embracing it." Seto followed the lean of his abductor's body through the creaking of the bed beneath its weight. He expected the elder to approach, but he merely hunched, forearms across his knees, elbows to his abdomen, staring.

He was done trying to decipher the riddles. Either Pegasus would talk straight or he wouldn't. He sighed thickly, closing his eyes in a long moment of concentration. He could handle the weight of Pegasus's stare, tenfold, over that of the camera. Nothing good could come from such an invasive display, but it was exactly Pegasus's style.

He forced his eyes open again. Every time his gaze drifted up too far it brought the light in, sent it crashing through his head and down his spine as if to crush him back into sleepy oblivion. The shadows obscuring Pegasus's face didn't hide his staring. Seto felt the eye on him as keenly as if it had its own sentience. So he stared back. There was nothing else in the room to hold his gaze, nor would he have given Crawford the satisfaction of purposefully avoiding his stare.

When he was ready to ignore the man, he wanted him to know it.

Pegasus was studying him, so he tried to do the same. The man's hair was usually bouncy and animated, but hung now in a curtain around his face, leaving only the edges of his eye and mouth visible, the center features clothed in shadow. A flicker of Duelist Kingdom stole into his mind and he shivered as he forced it out.

The camera zoomed closer.

"You marred a beautiful body, you know." His voice crept down as he spoke, the last of his words barely audible. Two fingers drug themselves over his pant leg slowly, creasing the fabric. "I stitched you so lovingly."

Seto's stomach knotted. Some part of him feared Pegasus wasn't talking to him anymore.

He looked like an animal.

Seto's fingers shook as memory of the struggle filtered back. Knife to neck. Old pain refreshed like new.

Both gazes settled on the dried blood. "I'll fix it." Pegasus crooned in the same tone Seto might've used to assure young Mokuba they could mend a broken toy. "But it'll probably scar."

Seto bowed his head so he wouldn't have to see Pegasus's hand crawling up his face to rest over his eye.

As much as he disliked admitting to pain, his body ached after the struggle. He needed time alone to recover and work through his thoughts on everything that had happened that day—a day? Was that really all it had been?—and then to come up with his next steps.

He didn't risk another glance at Pegasus, but noted the bed didn't creak. Pegasus wasn't leaving, wasn't moving to turn off the camera.

Dozens of questions piled up at the back of his throat, trying to worm their way into existence. They mostly centered around the logistics of the situation, questions to raise to force Pegasus to reconsider.

 _If his hands remained cuffed, how was he supposed to use the bucket at all?_

 _How would Seto eat, because certainly Pegasus didn't intend for him to starve, without the use of his hands?_

 _With a room so damp and dirty, how did Pegasus not expect the myriad of wounds not to become infected?_

But thinking through the questions, Seto bit them back. Pegasus might volunteer to lend a hand toward the solutions, and Seto refused to plant the ideas.

And of course there were still the unanswered questions from before.

 _Who wanted Seto out of the picture?_

 _What did he mean, make this worth it?_

 _Why was there a camera staring down at him?_

 _What did Pegasus get out of this?_

None of the questions would do, and with the nature of Pegasus's comments, Seto didn't want more confusing replies. He didn't need more questions, which meant pushing aside half of the nonsense Pegasus spewed.

He didn't appreciate Pegasus's silence, like the man was waiting on him to let loose the rush of unanswered questions. If he hadn't left, then he wanted to talk.

Rather than ask a question, Seto settled for a statement.

"You haven't thought this through."

"No, No, Kaiba-boy," Pegasus whispered, serenity contorting into exhaustion despite his effort to keep it back. "As always, you fail to see the bigger picture. I made plans, you fought them. I nursed the wounds you gave yourself, you tore them open. This whole charade of rebellion is so tired, and it's about time someone starting teaching you the consequences of your own actions."

He sat up straight, adjusting the position of the camera to compensate for the shifting of shadows and glare. "This routine of self-sabotage, has it gotten you anywhere?"

Seto stared hard, barely fighting back the anger rising in his gut.

"Hmm?" Pegasus rose to his feet, towering over Seto's sitting form, but Seto made no move to stand and bridge the gap. Cheap tactics like this meant he'd found the hole in Pegasus's plan. The misguided perceptions he was spewing were evidence of his scrambling to cover it up.

"If you want to lay down here in the dark and fester, I'll let you." He crouched down to Seto's direct eye level, malice flaring over his features. "But only until your stubbornness has brought you to the last threads of life, too weak to writhe in your own agony. Then I'll put you back together, just like little Mokuba does, and let you kick your feet and bang your fists all over again."

Seto flinched away, scraping his head against the wall and biting back the resounding moan, but Pegasus's hand found his cheek, cupping it gently.

"So, Seto, you have a choice to make."

Seto thrust himself halfway to his feet before Pegasus's hands moved to each of his shoulders, trying to shove him down. He set his feet, the right throbbing fiercely in protest. "Whether you like it or not, whether you suffer or not, is no matter to me. I'm all you've got. You're going to need me, and I'm going to help you."

"What the hell were you expecting from me?"

The hands on Seto's shoulders tightened, but Seto put his weight against the wall to take the pressure off his right foot.

Pegasus started an answer, but Seto cut him off, wishing for the use of his hands to reinforce the message— _stop touching me_ —with another punch. "Don't bother answering that. I'm not a hard read. You knew I'd fight. You left a knife in the room, left a rope unsecured. If you wanted to keep me down, there are smarter ways."

Seto never got his legs straight, and with the shackles on them, he hadn't found a steady purchase. Too much longer and his knees would buckle.

He slid an inch or so down the wall.

"I'd thought by now you'd learned that kidnapping never works in the kidnapper's favor." He paused long enough to ensure he had Pegasus's full attention. "So what the fuck do you want?"

Seto grit his teeth as Pegasus shoved again, the impact a spike driven through his body. He heaved, trying to ward off nausea as he folded in on himself, thudding to the stone floor.

"What do I want?" Pegasus repeated mockingly. "In part, you." He let the full weight of his words sink in. Seto dry heaved a few times, trying to push a sane distance away, but Pegasus's body was too firm a barricade. The lights grew brighter and blurred Pegasus's form. "I suppose that might make my efforts...how did you phrase it?" He put a finger to his chin in a show of concentration.

Seto closed his eyes and tried to drown out the voice, swallowing breaths, envisioning him and Mokuba arguing about the winner of their latest Mario Kart run.

"Ah, yes." He shuddered even before the hand pressed into his hair, drawing his neck up and his eyes to the light. "Favorable."

Pale lips contorted trying to hold the contents of Seto's stomach. Pegasus watched him fight futilely against the handcuffs, desperate for any sort of traction or control. He twisted his bruised wrists, hissing as the skin rubbed raw again. He needed to shove Pegasus away, cover his mouth and force the bile down.

 _Something_.

The light pierced his skull, every word in Mokuba's voice rattling around his head, distorted like the white noise of a television.

 _Anything_.

He snapped his eyes shut, refusing to perform for the camera any longer. Nothing he could say would counter that lie, or confession as it may well have been. The bile crept further up his throat at the thought. Did it make the first story a lie? Could he believe this one more than the last simply because it was crazier? The world spun his thoughts in endless circles as Pegasus spoke above him.

He didn't try to make out the words.

Mokuba walked the dark, endless hallway of his mind, looking left and right, "Seto?" He wanted to call him to his arms.

 _I'm right here Mokuba_.

"Seto?"

He held onto the rasping of his brother's voice, trying to use it to keep his nerve, but his arms ached in their unnatural position and the pressure of them resting on his back forced him up straighter, better into Pegasus's hold.

The light, he mouthed, turning his head to free himself. The light.

He twisted to the side as bile came up, sputtering from his mouth and leaving a trail of saliva he couldn't wipe away. Pegasus let his head slump, each gag dragging acid from his stomach through his throat, into his nose and mouth.

Pegasus wavered between outrage and amusement at Seto's violent repulsion, laughing softly under his breath when Hadley's words came back to him. ' _Call me if he vomits._ '

Concussion confirmed.

"If you keep on like that you'll give yourself whiplash." Pegasus crossed the room for the switch on the outside wall. The light went out. Seto's head buzzed as each of his ten thousand thoughts ground to the same sudden halt. For a moment he thought he could feel his brain pulsing, angry and inflamed.

"Put your head between your knees and just breathe," Pegasus said. Seto heard his weight sink into the bed and knew from the faint glow ahead that he was holding a torch, or maybe...

He blinked his eyes open as long as he could manage.

The red light of the camera shone back at him.

The weight of the filth covering Seto settled in. His shirt clung to his chest, sticky with the blood from his neck and head. Even more blood trailed down the side of his face mixing in with the saliva that he couldn't lift his shoulder high enough to wipe off. The floor around him was splattered with his bile, although it was too dark to see exactly where, its burning stench hovered around him.

Covered in blood, sweat, and vomit, Seto found himself grateful for the light being off, aside from the sensitivity from either hitting his head or being in the dark so long. He shifted to the side he knew was clear of his vomit and lifted his chin toward Pegasus.

"Okay," Seto said, then worked up enough moisture to spit the remaining stomach acid from his mouth. He tried clearing his stinging throat, but coughing only worsened the pain.

The bed creaked and Seto picked up on Pegasus's little "hmm?" that he translated as a prompt to go on. His question disappeared, lost among all the others, but after a few heavy breaths, it came back to him.

"I'll play along. Why are you filming me, and what's the other part?"

Pegasus didn't expect the answer immediately, and it didn't come right off.

He leaned forward, listening to the rhythm of Seto's breaths. "I'm sure you recall your excursion in virtual reality. I heard through the grapevine it was quite the painful reunion." He crossed his legs, waiting for the onslaught of inquiry, but was met with further silence. "Let's just say your team underestimated late Mr. Kaiba's friends in low places. There's an elusive back-up copy of the world he infiltrated, complete with rather...sensitive information."

He heard what he wanted. Seto's breathing stopped for a few moments before resuming with a choking exhale. Shock. Disgust. Disbelief. There was no telling what compounded the younger's outrage, but the longer he sat in stoic silence, expressions veiled by the darkness of the room, the more Pegasus tracked his thoughts.

 _Copy? There's not an engineer in the world who could manage a copy, and what good would it do them to have it? I'm the only one who could program the_ —

"Realization setting in?"

The question swelled around Seto until his line of breathing room was thin. He forced himself to count his respirations, cursing inwardly at taking Pegasus's suggestion but finding some solace in the fact that the man would never know it. He needed to know who Pegasus was collaborating with now more than ever, but was sure to get nowhere by asking outright.

The informant had to have been a double agent.

He tried to swallow the weight of his failure but it settled as a heavy lump in his chest.

A second one.

Gozaburo couldn't be calling the shots from virtual reality, especially if no one could program whatever data the thieves had gotten their hands on. He went through a list of KC's old investors, shareholders, and closest corporate ties. Hundreds upon hundreds of names, only half of which had faces. _Who was doing this? How had Pegasus gotten involved? Was he trying to force his hand, torture him into bringing his nightmares back from the dead?_

"I'm sure it goes without my saying, but the risk of gaining your consent to step down—as if you'd have given it—was too great. You know better than anyone the sort of man he was, the sort of company he kept. You're in grave danger, Seto Kaiba, that pales in comparison to what I could deal you. I'm sticking my neck out to keep you here."

Pegasus paused, glancing at the camera with a flicker of regret at having recorded the last sentence. "There's a lot I'm willing to do, but being a sacrificial lamb is out of the question, even for you."

Even as he fought to collect himself, Pegasus could practically hear Seto demanding that he 'talk straight.'

"I wasn't lying when I said it could've been Mokuba. It was a one or none situation, I couldn't assume the risk of keeping both of you. I'm sure it's no surprise that the list of people with necessary security was small. I was best equipped. I offered. Your employee wouldn't budge. I assume, given our history, that was inadvertently your choice. The questions you're dying to ask have answers that require patience. Whether you're willing to give it is no matter to me. I'll tell you again, one last time. I'm going to help you."

Questions. More and more of them piled in but Pegasus's demand for patience likely wouldn't be thwarted. It seemed as if two different men were speaking out of the same mouth, one who insisted he planned to help Seto, and the other who wanted Seto alive for whatever "fun" he had in mind and with plans to make him "worth it."

Although he knew it would hurt, Seto gave the handcuffs another tug, thinking that maybe, just this once, luck would be on his side and they would snap. He could get out by breaking his thumb, but then that would leave him still shackled by the ankles, in a dungeon with Pegasus and however many guards.

He was insane. As cloudy and muddled as Seto's mind was, he couldn't think of a better word for it. The nausea began again and Seto lowered his head to a knee and mentally enforced the notion that there was nothing left for him to throw up.

"Fuck your help," he muttered, not particularly caring if Pegasus could hear him or not.

The phrase "one or none" stuck out to him, and Seto couldn't be sure, not with his head spinning and aching as it was, but it sounded like a threat. What did this mean for Mokuba? If there was a double agent, a leak, a threat inside his company, that person would have much easier access to his brother.

There were so many questions Seto knew he should have asked first—after all, the idea of Gozaburo had been raised—even if Pegasus refused an answer, but overwhelmingly, the priority was, "Is Mokuba safe?"

He kept his head down while waiting on the answer. His body locked up and refused to move until he knew if Mokuba was all right.

Pegasus worked his jaw with his tongue, reflexively trailing the swollen area Seto's fist had connected with earlier. "I can't guarantee anyone's safety but yours, and even that's been problematic."

His foot bounced absently against the stone floor, shaking the mattresses and causing a pattern of creaking Seto pointedly forced from his mind. "Mokuba's as secure as one can expect. We couldn't leave him at KaibaCorp for fear he'd try to run it in your absence, and spare me the outrage, you know he would have." He swallowed thickly. Had it been anyone else, Seto would've mistaken the pause for one meant to suppress emotion. "Not a thing that boy does isn't made in your image."

Seto scoffed audibly, but bit it back for fear the disgust would prevent his real answer. _Who was Mokuba with? Had he been transported just as crudely? When did this 'meeting' about his family's well-being occur?_ Pegasus beat him to the final question.

"I can't let you two communicate with each other. Get that through your head now, and don't think you'll change my mind. If the correspondence would be intercepted even once, it'd be the end of both of you."

 _And you,_ Seto thought to add, but refrained. He had to stay collected long enough to decipher how much of Pegasus's story was true and if he could trust that things were as he made them seem.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts for a few minutes; get you something to drink and some warm water to wash with. Your legs aren't coming out of those shackles, but I might be feeling generous enough to get you a clean shirt."

He rose from the bed, ignoring the first sound of protest in an hour.


	4. Chapter 4

As the light overhead came on again, the red flash of the camera died out. Pegasus was gone from Seto's sight by the time his eyes adjusted.

Pegasus closed the door, as if Seto had the option to leave even if it had been left open. He didn't mind the door being closed. It meant he would have a warning, even just a second or two, before Pegasus reentered.

Seto got to his feet awkwardly. The chain connecting his ankles was only about a foot long, but a longer piece of chain connected the shackles to the wall. It prevented him from balancing by widening his stance, so he relied heavily on the wall to stand. His ankle protested his weight, and he couldn't even remember when it had been injured, but he didn't let it stop him from walking a slow lap around the tight room. Seto knocked his leg against the bed, finding it loose and not attached to the floor. He knelt down to get a better look at the wooden frame, then turned, fighting off another rush of dizziness, to press his hands against the mattress.

Springs.

The door came next since it was the first time Seto had seen it closed. He half expected to find bars on it or one of those sliding windows, but the only thing of interest was the missing handle on his side. Seto checked by bending over and found that they hadn't done anything but take off the handle. The access to the other side was still open. Seto figured out his plan with a single glance at the light, hanging unprotected overhead, then walked over to sit on the bed. He was done with the floor and having Pegasus look down on him. While waiting for Pegasus to return—and ignoring the part of his mind that was hopeful for a clean shirt—Seto ran his fingers over the thin material of the blanket behind him.

Pegasus couldn't actually expect him to keep quiet about Mokuba without so much as confirmation of his safety. How could Seto trust anything Pegasus said when the story seemed to keep changing? He slid back to pull up his feet, returning to the same position he had been in on the floor, only with six feet of chain hanging off the bed. His only option was to get out, if not clear of the castle, then to a phone. Isono might know what was happening, or at least have some information about Mokuba. Someone should know where Seto was.

The handle on the door clicked as it turned, and Seto lifted his head just enough that his chin rested on top of a knee.

Pegasus set the bucket of hot water beside the one that would eventually double as a toilet, but left the bottles to drink on the opposite side of the room. "Someone will come by to get those cuffs off. You won't have much more use of your arms, but enough to change and get cleaned up a little."

Seto barely nodded, adjusting his position on the bed to assert he wasn't leaving it. As he noted before, the cuffs would be removed. How short a time didn't matter at the moment, he'd do what he had to, to ensure Mokuba was safe. He took an even breath as Pegasus came around to face him, making a show of stepping over the chain, pulled almost as far as it would reach. "Do you need a drink now?"

Seto shook his head without bothering to ask how he'd manage it. He knew what Pegasus was suggesting and there was no way in hell he was letting the man near his mouth with anything. As it was, he'd have to inspect the water thoroughly to make sure it hadn't been opened or tampered with. His throat burned and he fought off the urge to swallow in hopes of relieving it. Even though his reflexes suddenly said otherwise, thirst was the least of his worries right now.

Pegasus clutched a blue plaid shirt in his hand. Seto almost winced at the pattern, but the colors themselves were muted at least. He nodded toward it, and Pegasus tossed it gently onto the bed beside him. Flannel. Not his first choice, but a decent line of defense against the cool, damp air.

"Croquet's at the end of the hall. I'll send him down." Pegasus met his eyes as if to confirm they were done talking.

A hundred questions floated through his mind, but he didn't have time to waste with them. He needed to hear from a reliable source that Mokuba was okay and his team had a line on what was happening. He'd be damned if he sat idly by while KC was pulled into its old spotlight.

With a shake of his head, Pegasus turned, eyeing him for a long moment before sweeping through the door. His form was a complete blur by the time Seto chanced a look back and realized he had removed the torn blazer. Though Pegasus implied he was nearby, Seto waited several minutes for the sound of approaching footsteps before he turned back to face the wall.

The door must not have been thick if Seto could hear through it. He let the knowledge rest while listening for the click of the handle. Maybe taking off one side of the handle had altered the mechanics inside, causing the click. Seto rolled his head toward Croquet as he entered, first noting the taser raised in his direction, followed by the set of shackles draped over his shoulder.

"I'm not going to attack you," Seto said, giving the taser a nod. "Calm down."

The taser remained up, accompanied by a warning that men were guarding the area outside should Seto try anything. He considered addressing the fact that he couldn't try anything, not with his legs chained together and to a mount across the room. Maybe Croquet was just wary after watching his boss take a fist to the face, which Seto had only done out of spite. Hitting Croquet might anger Pegasus more than the previous punch.

Croquet instructed Seto to turn so he could unlock the cuffs. The blood rushing back into Seto's arms numbed them momentarily, and he rubbed them until the feeling came back. Croquet stepped back by that point, and Seto used his free moment to examine the damage to his wrists and hands. Sliding his right out of the rope had taken off nearly all skin over his thumb, and his wrists were raw and chafed. Croquet hung back by the door, telling Seto that he had five minutes before the new set of shackles would have to be attached.

"In front or behind?" Seto asked. If behind, he needed to get as much to drink as he could. But Croquet told him in front, so Seto decided to let the water wait, stepping off the bed to kneel beside the bucket of water, but not the rusted bucket, which he refused to look at. Seto first washed his hands, then realized that it was just a bucket of water.

"He couldn't spare a rag?" That got no reply, so Seto scooped up a palmful of water and splashed it against the side of his face where the blood seemed to be the worst. Washing off one rub at a time wouldn't allow him enough time to get off all the blood. He focused on his face and neck, careful of the still-open gash caused by the knife, and watched as the water in the bucket clouded. He glanced back at Croquet, unable to see the man's eyes with the sunglasses that were impractical in a dungeon this dark. But since he couldn't see Croquet's eyes, he decided that the man wasn't looking at him. It simplified the act of taking off his shirt, working down the row of buttons and tossing it by the door.

His white undershirt was red down one side, but he left it on while washing off the area around his collarbone and shoulders. He caught a glimpse of one of the scars littering his arms and had to wonder how after defeating Gozaburo twice, his name kept coming up. At what point could Seto be done with him, with the memories, with his past?

A two minute warning got Seto back up to his feet, taking the few steps back over to the bed to pick up the flannel shirt. It felt thicker than the blanket. Before he could talk himself out of it, Seto pulled off the undershirt and dropped it at his feet, not looking back at the man looking at him, and quickly slid his arms into the sleeves of the plaid shirt. He frowned at it while he buttoned. Had he ever worn anything patterned?

The chains jingled as a sign that Croquet started moving. Seto turned to see the taser still aimed at him and the chains fall to the foot of the bed. He was instructed to sit.

He didn't.

"I'm not going to ask you to do anything," Seto said, taking a little step back and almost tripping over the chain. "I understand your role in this. But I need to know that Mokuba is all right. You probably don't know, but I'm sure he could get concrete proof of it." The taser moved, but didn't fire, and Seto wondered if he had actually been given leave to use it.

"I'm not going to appeal to any morality or humanity. I'm not asking for information. But I will let you put those on without a struggle if you will just tell him that right now, I just want proof that my _only family_ is alive and well."

Seto couldn't force Croquet to deliver the message. It wasn't even much of a trade because he didn't have much struggle currently in him. But certainly Croquet was under orders to convey anything of interest that happened, which would include Seto's request and his agreeing to the shackles.

His offer was met with another order to sit, which he did this time, keeping his hands in a mock surrender position, out in front of him with fingers raised.

The shackles matched those on his ankles, but the chain between them was shorter, only about three inches. Seto gave them a little tug once attached and found no give. Croquet had another chain that would hook from Seto's ankles to his wrists. It would lock the two together and keep him from lifting his hands any higher than his waist unless he sat with his ankles pulled up.

"This is unnecessary," Seto said, pulling up his wrists to demonstrate the lack of movement allowed. He wouldn't be able to reach the light.

Croquet met his eyes, which wasn't much of a gesture since his own were still veiled, and gave the faintest inkling of a nod. He made a show of wrapping the chain around his knuckles as Seto had done with the rope before sending it into Pegasus's face. Seto watched his movements, but didn't so much as flinch at the threat they implied. The weight of Gozaburo's ghost was too much to contend with. Though he hated to agree with Pegasus on anything, even if only in his head, it was true that whatever petty violence he could deal was nothing in comparison.

Croquet's slow pace told him he wasn't going to strike. He adjusted his weight on the bed, feeling a slight dip in the mattress. The intimidation tactic had to be personally motivated. Pegasus wouldn't order something that direct unless he was the one dishing it out. Seto locked eyes with him for several long moments until he realized that a man of his position wouldn't keep on this long.

He studied the movement as the end of the chain drew near and Croquet clasped his fingers around it. What did it mean? Why wouldn't he just come out with it? Clearly he wouldn't reveal anything Pegasus didn't want him to know. Was he trying to say Pegasus was dragging him around in circles? He already knew that. What did it mean for Mokuba?

He opened his mouth, trying to think of a way to drop the boy's name at least one more time, but snapped it shut. Croquet had gone along with much worse than this and refused to be swayed. It was a losing battle. But the head of security stood to full height and waited a moment, even with the task complete, as if Seto should have caught onto something by now.

He kept the chain clothed hand at about the same height the taser had been. Seto fought back the urge to roll his eyes, what kind of damage could he do now? He clenched both hands into fists and extended them in a show of mock-surrender before it finally hit him. Croquet's hand was over his chest. All this time he'd never noticed the removal of his locket. His hand rose instinctively to feel for it and stopped as it pressed against the shirt pocket. Croquet stepped around the bed and made for the door. Seto didn't feel the case itself, but the outline of something in the pocket. He reached in and wrapped his fingers around a thin piece of plastic, pulling it slowly into the light. ...An SD card?

"Do you think Pegasus is the only one with a camera?"

His brother's name rose to his lips triumphantly. "Mokuba." He turned, nearly knocking the bed over in his haste to face Croquet, but found his reply cut short by the distinct 'click' of the door.

Now that he was alone, Seto got a water bottle, checking the seal and flipping it upside down to make sure there were no holes in it. After confirming it hadn't been tampered with, he sat back on the bed and began sipping from it, staring at the SD card.

Pegasus brought down the shirt, so he must have placed it there. Another game mixed in with all the rest. If he had left the camera, Seto could have checked the contents of the card easily. But with just the card he was left to wonder about the data on it, or hope that the next time Pegasus visited, he would forget the camera with Seto.

Seto held the card to his head—as if that would allow him to visualize the images hidden from him—and wondered if he was holding proof of Mokuba's safety or just another trick.

He gave himself a minute to worry over it, counting out the seconds under his breath while mentally screaming through the possibilities.

He couldn't use it yet. That was a final fact which meant Seto needed to stop concerning himself with it and get to work.

Returning the card to his pocket, Seto stood. He put the lid back on the bottle and dropped it on the bed.

Seto still felt the sedative in his system, but not as strongly as before. His vision remained clear, although that didn't keep him from getting tangled in the longer chain attached to his ankles.

That would have to be the first thing to go.

Seto's gaze skimmed over the walls, checking for any cameras that might have been hidden. Pegasus might have flaunted that first one in Seto's face, but if he wanted to keep an eye on Seto, there would be a hidden camera somewhere.

He didn't find anything. If there was something there, Pegasus tucked it away impressively. So under the assumption that no one could see him, Seto walked over to the bucket, not of the bloody water, but the empty one.

The handle had caught his attention early on. Although rusted, it was thin enough that Seto thought he could bend it, and it didn't latch onto the sides very well. Seto couldn't get a hand on either side with the short length of chain connecting his wrists, but managed to pull one side off, then the other. It would be easy to reattach—he hoped—and would have to be before anyone came for it.

That was fine. He just needed to rip a hole in the mattress.

It was too early to prepare for an escape. Seto understood all the limits he faced, all the hurdles he would have to go through to get out of the dungeons, upstairs, and to find a phone. But he would be ready the first chance he received.

He decided to hide the hole under the pillow, and gripping one end of the handle between his fingers, Seto began to rub at the mattress, immediately rewarded with some fraying. The rust worked in his favor, making the edge rougher and a better tool to rip through fabric.

It took several minutes, all of which were spent listening for the sound of footsteps. His paranoia grew the longer he worked, and by the time Seto made a hole big enough to stick his fingers into, the paranoia won over.

He took the handle back over to the bucket and hooked it through the small holes on either side. Someone would come by eventually, and when they did, he wanted to appear collected, not jumpy.

They would have a schedule and Seto would learn it. Until then, he dropped to the mattress and settled on his side, reaching both hands up under his pillow to work at the spring while he laid down with eyes closed.

* * *

Croquet walked to the end of the corridor where the dungeon branched out in various directions, "Did he find it?" Pegasus asked from the shadows.

His only response was a nod. Then, after a few long seconds of silence, "What will you do if Mokuba's security is compromised?"

The master turned from the damp wall and stepped into the light, "Not our pound of flesh, not our concern. Don't tell me his pestering actually got to you?"

Croquet shifted his weight, never breaking eye contact, "I won't ask what you have planned for Seto Kaiba, but if his brother joins him we'll need time to prepare."

At this, Pegasus let forth a flourish of laughter. "Can I predict an infiltration? Go upstairs Croquet, take a break. I'll have the others stand guard." He moved past him, once again in pursuit of his captive. "Neither of them are going to die on my watch."

Croquet wondered how long it would take for this to evolve into a full-blown sequel of Duelist Kingdom. Pegasus may not have planned to be involved, but he knew him well enough to understand he had even less concept of when to back down. The Kaiba brothers' misfortune had presented him an unusual opportunity, and his tastes were eccentric enough to raise concern of how he might exploit it. It was true he didn't intend to lose Seto, now his puppet in body and mind, but Croquet knew losing Mokuba might be a different story. For all his pushing to take the boy, Crawford was too content with letting anything that happened to him be someone else's concern.

He didn't question the master's objectives, but watched the way he went to the younger man at every real sign of discomfort, distress, irritation. Whatever he expected to gain by keeping him helpless and dependent would be dismantled if Mokuba turned up hurt—or worse. Not even he wanted to deal with Pegasus's rage if the toy he had so meticulously crafted shattered to pieces in front of him.

Mokuba was Seto Kaiba's reason to live. Even Pegasus knew that. If the hope of seeing Mokuba ever vanished, things—whatever they were—were as good as over.

He ascended the stairs to the main level of the castle as Pegasus pushed the door to Seto's room open.

The servant pictured the array of weapons and devices in the dungeon, the weight of Pegasus's strange advances, and played the last words over—"Neither of them are going to die on my watch"—wondering if wishing they were dead was any better.

He supposed, pushing down a twinge of sadness at the thought, if anyone knew, it would be Pegasus.


	5. Chapter 5

The click from the door justified Seto's paranoia, drawing out a flinch and then freezing his motions. Pulling his hands from under the pillow would have been too clear a sign he was trying to hide something, so Seto settled for opening his eyes and watching Pegasus come in before sitting up.

"You're back soon."

The door stayed open. It made an annoying sort of sense. Seto couldn't walk through even if Pegasus stood aside, and it didn't open from the inside.

He expected Pegasus to stand, playing on the power position as Seto was seated, but he sat on the edge of the bed just an arm's length from him, crossing a leg over the other. The position allowed the overhead light to hit his jaw in such a way as to highlight the red splotch. He should have known he didn't have enough force to bruise. The rope seemed to have done more damage than his fist.

Pegasus trained his eye on stains of Seto's blood against the wall, hand twitching at the instinct to smear its dying vibrance across his fingertips. He patted the slim digital camera in his pocket instead, catching Seto's gaze on his face and hoping to redirect it. Something deep within him stirred at the idea of the younger CEO admiring the marks of his own hand.

"Are you tired?" he asked softly, "You were laying down when I came in."

Seto was exhausted but admitting to it would only be cause for suspicion, and he had no desire to confirm Pegasus's torment was wearing on him.

A curt shake of his head seemed to appease the man.

"Dizzy?"

He didn't bother with a reply. No matter what answer he gave, Pegasus would have more leverage than he intended to give. The fact that he was so obviously fishing for something was more nerve-wracking than having to sit beside him, idly chatting as if nothing had changed at all.

"If Little Mokuba was heartset on a dangerous profession, in the spirit of fun there's no need to glare, what preventative measures might you take?"

It was a thinly veiled hypothetical, but judging by the immediate tensing of Seto's hands to fists, served the purpose well enough.

Seto relaxed his hands after catching Pegasus staring at them. The question's so-called spirit of fun didn't match Seto's outlook. Mokuba would never pick a dangerous profession. He was thrown into danger so often, how could he willingly place himself into more?

 _He might have brought the camera._

"Hardly an appropriate question given our situation."

The words 'Answer the question, Kaiba-boy' seemed to echo through the room. While trying to think through an answer fitting the absurdity, Seto felt something by his ear. He reached up to feel it, having to lift both hands because of the chain, and pulled away with a smear of blood on his fingers.

 _There had to be a way to get the camera._

Sighing, Seto wiped it off on a pant leg. They were already ruined, so a few more drops of blood wouldn't change anything.

But what preventative measures would he take?

Scenarios spun around of how exactly Seto would stop Mokuba from willingly entering danger, but he kept those bit back. He had enough influence to blacklist his own brother. He could find other professions to interest Mokuba, even if a job had to be invented.

"It would depend on the job," Seto lied. He glanced at Pegasus and found a gaze too intent, too much like he was ready to reach over a comforting hand. "If he chose a dangerous profession that helped people, I doubt I could talk him out of it. But I couldn't stop him."

More blood dripped out of the gash on Seto's head. He let the blood roll rather than try to stop the bleeding, not wanting the injury to gain attention.

A note of laughter slipped from Pegasus's throat. It was so like Mokuba to put others first, building his career and life around their comfort, their needs, their cues. He was a strong boy, but he'd always clung tight.

His heart ached at the thought. The empaths always clung too tight.

"Couldn't stop him, or wouldn't?"

He shifted his weight, angling himself to better meet Seto's eyes. At the first semblance of his gaze, Seto bowed his head. Pegasus felt his scathing thoughts surrounding him as if daring him to scoot closer and lap them up.

He knew what Seto must be thinking. Does he expect me to tie him up and forbid him from living his life? Keep him under my wing forever? Sorry, I don't have a spare dungeon handy.

Seto cleared his throat as if to indicate that it didn't matter.

But it did. More than he knew.

Seto rubbed his thumb over his other palm, attempting to get rid of a blood stain. Although he didn't want to, he might have to use some of the water from the bottles to finish washing off the blood.

"It's his life."

A life Seto had cared for and looked after for over a decade, provided for, kept fed, clothed, and happy.

His arms and legs went numb as the worry fully set in. His throat tightened and his hands instinctively went back to fists. Pegasus let them go once. He couldn't expect such charity again.

He didn't even know if Mokuba was alive. Mokuba would have fought back. He had never been sedated before and could have been allergic to it. He could have tried escaping wherever he was and gotten hurt.

"I'm done with this subject. Make your point."

"Easy now, Seto. Remember you're not calling the shots." Pegasus's voice was dangerously even, smooth, no threat was necessary to convey the one that loomed over the brothers' heads.

He uncrossed his legs and slid his hands into his pockets. Seto's eyes followed them down even as he forced himself to face straight ahead. "Let's say Mokuba's gotten himself into trouble on the job. The job he loves. The job that defines the rest of his poor, young life. Let's say all the money in your possession wouldn't do a thing to see him out of it. Could you sleep at night?"

Seto's glaring all said the same thing. Pegasus's 'what ifs' were meaningless and tired. None of this was plausible. Mokuba respected and looked for Seto's opinion too much to step over it entirely. If he needed help, he'd ask well before things got that far.

"He could give every reason in the book: he worked hard for this position, it's his, no one else could succeed the way he could. He's earned it. Deep down he's still got something to prove."

The room went quiet, both men staring hard at the wall, Seto's hands balled into fists, Pegasus's nestled in his pockets, "You'd agree that in cases of his physical safety being compromised, his emotional well-being would be, in a word, meaningless? After all, it wouldn't change your mind."

Rage tore through Seto's entire body. He clutched his fingers tighter against his palms, waiting for Pegasus to reach his sick conclusion. "You can't deny what's come to pass, and there's no way to soften your blow. But you don't pull back, do you, Kaiba? Because it's your job to keep him safe even if he hates you for it."

Seto's jaw clenched, working the muscles all the way up behind his ears. It must have been close to his head injury, because the movement drew more blood. If it kept up, he would have to put some pressure on it.

"And what's your job then?" Seto asked, trying to keep his voice level, but then thinking through what all Pegasus was saying.

"You're the hero here? A white knight to the rescue?" He gave up glaring at the wall, turning to face Pegasus and rattling the chains in the process. Lifting his cuffed hands, Seto said, "Drop Mokuba from this analogy. How is this-" and here a tug on the short chain between his wrists. "-doing any good? You don't think my physical safety is compromised, that I won't end up infected from staying in this cesspool?"

His voice had risen, and since he wanted information, regardless of whether he agreed with what was being said, shouting would get him nowhere.

"You think my safety is compromised, decide to help, and come up with this? And don't say it's because I fought back. You knew I would."

Pegasus met his stare with a charming expression, easing his features into a soft grin. His eye caught the trail of crimson leaking down Seto's face and he raised a single finger to mirror it on his own.

"See, this is why I didn't try to _talk_ to you. You're so angry you've stopped listening. You're here because nothing would keep you from your company, and don't tell me you'd have made arrangements to hide out for a while, I know you better than that. You would've gone after anyone who dared attach themselves to that man's name, simply because they unburied it. I did what I had to do, and it doesn't matter if you agree with my methods. We talked about that too, remember?"

He watched the anger flare anew over Seto's features, his ears flushed red and his knuckles grew white from gripping so hard to his pant legs.

"You don't think I staff a doctor and a week's worth of amoxicillin? Please, infection is the least of your worries. In my dungeon, in my castle, on my island, you're at my mercy. You chose to fight, I chose to stow you down here. With the threats surrounding your company, no one will look for you. You better look long and hard, Seto Kaiba, I'm the only white knight you've got."

Seto gave it a beat.

"What you _had_ to do?"

Seto shook his head before lifting his hands to wipe at the blood, only to smear it across his cheek. He let out a heavy breath and quit bothering with it. "You kidnapped me. Drugged me. And why the hell do you think no one would look for me?"

Sure, he didn't have many people, but there were some who would look. He wasn't so hated that no one cared about finding him. KaibaCorp couldn't operate without him. His stocks couldn't be bought out without Seto making them available for purchase.

Although his locket had that code and was missing.

"You've talked yourself in circles—you want to help; you don't want me to kill myself and take your fun; you've got me at your mercy. You say I've stopped listening? Tell me how you see this ending."

Pegasus rolled his shoulders, letting his expression fall into something more natural. "I don't know yet. I'm quite enjoying myself and I suppose it'll end when that stops. I wanted you; you've known that from the first moment we met. It's why you shied away from me. Do you really think it'd be hard for me to keep you too drugged to resist? You're here because I can keep you without a single obstacle. If you never see the light of day again, no one will come looking for me. If you manage to get a phone call through to that prized employee of yours, there's not a single person he can involve without handing you back to your stepfather. You'll figure out what I plan to do with you when I intend to do it. The fact of the matter is, you're cornered. The only thing you really control is that card in your pocket, and the little boy I can guarantee you don't want to join you here."

He rolled the sleeves of his undershirt to his elbows to occupy himself. "If you honestly convinced yourself there was some grand plan involved, you're more naive than I thought. The harder you fight back, the further you'll push me into staging a throw away threat to Little Mokuba. No one wants to hand him over, but I've said it before, the choice between me and your stepfather is about as clear cut as you can get."

Seto fought to keep his expression blank and unreadable, but Pegasus seemed more than satisfied with the little twitches of his features here and there. "You may as well stop trying to decide when I'm being honest with you. If our current game is lying to each other, I will outlast you."

Pegasus rose to his feet, cracking his back as he stood. As his pants settled with the weight of his body, Seto caught a brief glimpse of red light beyond his pocket.

I wanted you.

I wanted you.

 _I wanted you._

Seto's body lost all sensation except for his heart beat. It echoed through every limb, behind his eyes, in the pit of his stomach. The layers of threats would have seemed less possible if not for the shackles keeping him in place. Their weight became a physical reminder of his captivity, of his helplessness.

At least Gozaburo hadn't done this to him. It was about the only positive thing Seto had to say about his father. Gozaburo kept him collared, not hidden in a dungeon for his own amusement.

Although whatever he would do now might trump anything Pegasus had planned. Seto had beaten and humiliated Gozaburo twice. Gozaburo's revenge meant death, if not for Seto, certainly for Mokuba.

Pegasus stood which meant he could have been planning to leave. As tired as Seto was, he couldn't risk sleeping and he wasn't ready to have the door locked on him. Not yet, not this soon. Whether there was a long game or not, he had to know.

He let out an amused breath and shook his head. "No one wants me."

He tried to make it casual since the camera was back, but the underlying question was there. Why do you want me? What do you want from me?

Pegasus smoothed his hair to fight off the urge to reach for Seto. "You'll take the fun out of lying if it's obvious," he warned, letting his arms fall slack again. The softness of Seto's features showed his age, but never as much as these moments of vulnerability. Segments of half-truth Pegasus could still recall from their early days of collaboration, before they officially became partners.

Over-zealous compliments about Duel Monsters, reconsidered mentions of its promise. Every glance into those blue eyes, pointedly devoid their previous anger, was a portal to another time, another place. When Seto Kaiba stumbled over his words and forgot himself in all ways but one. When he was just a boy too young, with scars too fresh, trying desperately to be a part of something that'd saved his life.

The signature arrogance that held the room had been present back then, but not yet honed. _"Your passion for gaming brought you to my company, but your technology could serve thousands of game designers across the globe. Why Industrial Illusions? Why Duel Monsters?"_

 _Seto had given the same light shake of his head, "It has to be Duel Monsters."_

 _Pegasus did not ask why. He didn't have to._

"Thousands of men and women let their spouses shower alone to slide your calendar out of their bedside table. Little Mokuba sees you as his entire world. Gozaburo clawed his way up from hell because you demonstrated a superior sense of strategy and ruthlessness. I'm not the first person to want you, Seto Kaiba." He chanced turning to face him, watching his eyes follow the pattern of his footsteps toward the door, just a few paces, "I'm not even the first person to want you for your mind."

Seto gave up. Both hands rose to cover his face and couldn't keep it bottled in.

"Wanting my body or my face is one thing. So is wanting my mind or what I can offer. Wanting revenge on me or wanting me to help save the world, none of those things are actually wanting me," he said, dropping his hands to find blood.

His following breath shook and he was so sick of being covered in so much fucking blood.

"You think you know me, that just because I hate my father I'll content myself here. How are you any fucking better than him? Controlling me, keeping me at your mercy, keeping me away from Mokuba, wanting my mind?"

He stood because Pegasus did, not daring to take a step for fear of tripping on the chain in front of the man who had locked him in it. "The only way you'll be able to treat me like the object you're describing is to keep me sedated, which if you only have a week's worth of antibiotics, I doubt you are prepared for."

He hadn't sparked a visible reaction from Pegasus, aside from a hand moving to his pocket. He wasn't looking for a reaction, maybe just an understanding. He wasn't even sure of his point. He was—

He was talking too much.

The list of excuses for the slip might have defended Seto, but instead of lingering on them, he closed his mouth. The red light of the camera meant he was being filmed. Letting out an emotional rant benefited only Pegasus.

"Just go."

Seto sat back down. Appearances be damned, he was going to sleep.

"While your surface readings of my motivations are adorable, your projections are showing. My wanting your mind has nothing to do with wanting what you can offer me. As you've so eloquently noticed, I have anything I could want from you, and your company, right here under my thumb."

A sigh passed his lips before he could stop it, drawing him the final few paces to the doorway where a hand rested, trembling, on the surface. "I didn't take you for your looks, patents, title, or money. Charming as it is that you think I've kidnapped you to see how you can further my company, I already _get_ that from you in everyday business. What good does chaining you to a wall do? Don't act like you haven't pushed away everyone who tried to get to know you. Like your outrage at little Yugi's protege returning to the afterlife wasn't a desperate cry of your soul for the one person who dared to touch it."

He felt Seto's eyes burning holes in his back, searching periodically for the red light of the camera in his pocket. The sheer weight of their emotional rampage left him temporarily asphyxiated, claustrophobic, desperate for the corridor just a few steps away.

"I refuse to believe the call of that young woman doesn't pierce your heart every time you summon a dragon. I've sought the window to your soul since I first held it in my hand. No one wants you? Seto, don't wound me. Don't fuel me. Gods be damned, what did you think all these years were for?"

He all but slammed the door as he fled the room, and the corridors of his dungeon, for the main level of the castle. At the stairwell he called to Croquet, "His wound is bleeding. Take care of it."

Hadley blinked as he tried to piece the words together, following Croquet's lead to the prisoner he could only assume was awake. The job was done in a matter of minutes; he made a note of mild concussion, applied the gauze, and stood guard at the end of the hall without another word.

He hoped whatever mental war the two had started would pass by morning, if not for his sake, for Seto's.


	6. Chapter 6

Seto woke up in a bed that he didn't recognize, wearing a shirt not his own, separated from Mokuba, and with a monstrous headache. The headache outweighed the other pains screaming for his attention, but the pain was sharp, clear, focused.

He could think through it and trust himself not to be so emotional. Pegasus had been wrong the day before. Seto didn't just control the card in his pocket, he controlled himself, or at least, he would now with the sedative out of his system. Pegasus wanted something from him–Seto refused to believe that something was an insipid concept like his soul–and Seto wouldn't hand himself over that easily.

He took a small sip from the water bottle to try washing away the taste of morning from his mouth before recapping it. He hadn't touched the empty bucket aside from borrowing the handle. He planned to put that off as long as possible.

He did another lap of the room in search of anything his drugged mind might have missed. The plan with the light still seemed his best option, but impossible while chained to the wall. So he checked on those chains, feeling for any give on the mount or on the bands.

Nothing.

His ankle didn't hurt as much as it had. Seto first thought it was sprained, but it couldn't have been that severe. It moved with relative ease and held his weight.

Seto sat back on the bed and held up his wrists to look at the shackles. They didn't have a padlock, but a lock built in. Croquet attached them, but that didn't mean he still had the key. With a glance down at his ankles, Seto confirmed those shackles used the same system. Their keyholes were bigger, which meant locating two keys. Just more steps to be taken before getting out of this pit.

 _There's not a single person he can involve without handing you back to your stepfather._

What the hell did Pegasus know about it? Seto had prepared for everything. Maybe not Gozaburo finding his way back to life, but Seto was prepared to disappear. He had money hidden, fake IDs for Mokuba and him, and travel arrangements set.

Of course Pegasus knew Isono would be Seto's first call. Even if Isono hadn't been harmed, he probably had eyes on him. Maybe everyone Seto knew was being watched.

No, he couldn't be that paranoid. Pegasus wasn't winning this one. Gozaburo, who Seto reminded himself hadn't been confirmed as being a part of this at all, wasn't winning this one.

Seto might be backed into a corner, but he wasn't done fighting.

He stayed on the bed and messed with the bands on his wrists until he heard the door click, then continued to look at them. It didn't matter who came through.

"These aren't needed."

"Not my decision," Croquet replied from the doorway. "I came to deliver breakfast. You'll either eat it or you won't.

He set the plate gently on the ground, careful not to disturb its contents too much. Normally he'd come around the bed to get a full scope of the room, but he didn't have time to argue and Seto seemed in the mood.

A short glance to the bucket showed it didn't need emptied so he took the dirty water to discard it. Eventually he'd fill and bring it back so the boy could wash again, but if Pegasus's morning was any indication of his patience, it wouldn't be for a while.

The master of estate had stayed in his bedroom from 5:30 onward, Funny Bunny blaring periodically from the TV. The long-established skype meeting scheduled an hour later promptly became a traditional, telephone conference. When Croquet had braved a knock, poking his head in to see about delivering Seto's food, Pegasus was still in his pajamas, hair pulled back in a loose, low ponytail. He gave a curt nod of approval and resumed pacing the length of the room, 'mm-ing' casually into the phone receiver.

If Crawford needed that kind of break after less than 48 hours, they had a lot of trouble on their hands.

He cleared his throat, and his thoughts with it, feeling for the rotation list he'd crammed into his chest pocket. If he played his cards right he'd only have to cover a few four-hour intervals of dungeon watch. That was, if he ever got out of the god-forsaken room to begin with. He ignored Seto's pointed cough and strode into the corridor, the familiar click of the door resounding behind him.

* * *

Seto sat with his hands on his thighs for a few long moments before pushing himself up. His stomach had been in knots all night as his system worked through residual sedative and anxiety. Nothing on the plate at the edge of the room looked appealing, but he noted several packaged foods that could've come straight from a five-year-old's lunchbox, inwardly thankful for them.

Pegasus couldn't keep drugging him if he wanted to have a real conversation, but judging by the previous night's tension, there was no telling what he expected Seto to say. Maybe drugging him into silence would be easier. With no better idea of his motive, it was too dangerous to trust his tiny track record of playing fair.

He stepped closer to inspect the food, something he'd wind up doing an unnecessary amount of times in the next few hours for lack of anything better to do. The plate was paper, which was absurd for a man of Pegasus's taste and made his intent very clear. No glass to cut or pry with, no plastic to break or carve. But paper, which was worth something at least. He made a mental note to fold the plate up and tuck it away.

The food itself was limited. Pre-packaged apple slices, a cup of strawberry banana yogurt, which couldn't have reminded him more of Pegasus if he planned it, and two pieces of toast with almond or peanut butter. He wouldn't be trying it to find out which.

The more he stared at it, the more his mind turned. If he wanted the hide the plate he couldn't leave the food in plain sight. Anyone would notice right away that he'd taken it, and he wouldn't put a strip search past Pegasus even if he offered it back.

He thought about crushing it with his hands, mixing it with water to give the consistency of vomit and depositing it in the piss bucket he would also _not_ be using. But wasn't sure he could pull it off if Pegasus had medical personnel on hand. They might catch on, and he couldn't afford that before he did a little damage control for the night before.

He settled with putting it under the bed, making a mental note to do something with it before it molded in the slow hours that passed between Croquet's entrance with the first meal, and Pegasus's with the second.

As much as he wanted to upon catching the content expression on Pegasus's face, he couldn't afford to let this encounter go the same way Croquet's had. When he crossed the threshold into the room, Seto was ready for him.

He had opened the sealed containers to make it look like he had tried eating. He finished off the first of the water bottles and placed it over the food, as if to indicate he was done with both of them, setting them by the foot of his bed in clear sight.

Pegasus gave it a glance and walked by, taking his previous seat on the bed and setting the second paper plate of the day in between them.

Seto wanted to lead the conversation as best as he could, although as Pegasus had reminded him the night before, Seto didn't call the shots.

It was a mindset he could work with. As much as Pegasus's speech about Seto being wanting bothered him, it made it clear Pegasus had given it thought. It had almost seemed an attempt at encouragement, like the idea of Seto potentially having low self-esteem needed to be corrected. His soft words and concerns about Seto's health could have been for show, but if there was any chance they were genuine, Seto planned on finding out.

"Is he really back?" Seto asked. He kept his hands in his lap and his gaze on the stained wall across the room. "Or was that a lie to keep me in line?"

Pegasus made a mental note to have someone scrub the room. Walls, floor, anything that'd been touched by blood or acid. Seto may have adjusted to the smell of stale vomit, but it lingered every time Pegasus opened the door. After such a strong show of resistance, he wasn't ready to let the shackles come off, but he could allow that much.

He'd send someone with an iPod and a good pair of headphones. Seto's emotional questions were hard enough for Pegasus to take for what they really were, let alone someone whose only obligation to keeping him there was money. It might do Seto good to deal with someone who pointedly ignored him. Croquet seemed mostly incapable of such, not that he could blame him. Seto had a way of drawing attention to himself in ways not even Pegasus had anticipated.

"I'm afraid so, Kaiba-boy." He nodded to the plate, which Seto realized sat on a stack of newspapers. He slid them out carefully, not wanting to soil the only clean surface he had left.

The front page of every prominent newspaper in Japan shared variations of the same headline.

"CEO Fakes Death, Comes Out Of Hiding 8 Years Later."

A jolt of raw fear settled in his veins, heart racing as he tried to make out the blurred photograph. Old, he realized with genuine relief. From their orphanage days no less.

None of the newspapers showed recent pictures of Gozaburo, and confirmed only rumors of what 'inside sources' were calling a transcendent return. Seto let himself look marginally conflicted, studying the pages carefully for several minutes. He reminded himself that Pegasus basically commanded a printing press. It wouldn't have been hard to run off a few fake news articles. What did it matter that they were accurate? Flawless, even. Pegasus spared no time or expense in kidnapping him. Might as well make the case convincing.

"Not even I'm cruel enough to lie about something like that, though I doubt you'd believe it."

Seto ignored the headlines and turned to the other pages, verifying that all the news articles were genuine. He didn't find anything out of place, any stories that didn't seem plausible. Pegasus hadn't brought the complete articles, but enough.

He folded the newspapers and set them aside. Pegasus might take them back whenever he left, but if he let Seto keep them, they would be better than the paper plates.

"Is he searching for me?"

Seto started to look at Pegasus, but caught himself in the motion halfway through, turning his gaze back to the newspapers beside him.

"I mean," Seto said, making sure to choose each word with precision, matching his tone to the message. "He must have made a threat for you to rationalize all this."

The question was a start. It still wouldn't explain how Pegasus found out before Seto, or why he had initially said that he had been hired by people who needed Seto to lay low. Unless he was working for Gozaburo, who might have decided rather than kill Seto, to store him away somewhere.

Kaiba's profile made his features too sharp, more like a man's than an adolescent's. He kept his eyes trained on the words, seemingly transfixed by the news, and Pegasus made no move to physically re-direct his gaze.

"Your stepfather never was a subtle man, but then wartime machinery isn't a subtle trade. Half the country's in shambles at the thought of his return. Several of your investors have temporarily pulled their funds. That right-hand man of yours seemed very concerned about it, but you know how the public sensationalizes things. Takes speculation as gospel truth."

Seto's jaw tightened at the word speculation and Pegasus uncrossed his legs in a show of getting comfortable. "No one's seen Gozaburo in the flesh, not that he has any to return to, but several announcements have been made detailing his plans to reclaim KaibaCorp and take the world by storm. Weaponry and part vendors are already lining up to sign on the dotted line. Before this morning, everyone was under the impression it was a hoax."

Pegasus sat perfectly still on the bed, no longer bobbing his foot or inching his hand past the plate between them. "Your associates contacted me months ago to ask if I was behind the 'obviously fabricated' rumor. Imagine that? I assured them I had no involvement, and that was the end of it for a long while. The next thing I knew, three of your boys were pounding down my door. Isono had received an untraceable email that said, in essence, 'You can run but you can't hide,' with the exact coordinates of your hotel room and several pictures of your belongings still inside. You were in London at the time and Isono phoned out of the blue to ask after you."

It was impossible for Seto to look away anymore, and the stark horror on his face was more than Pegasus had expected. "They took pictures of your return flight ticket and several black and white shots of Mokuba undressing in the bathroom. Made the strangest remark about the crescent moon birthmark at the bottom of his spine being only the beginning."

Seto's features resumed their err of neutrality. Pegasus's stomach dropped to his feet, needing no verbal confirmation that Mokuba had no such birthmark. The breath left his body before he could exhale, lungs contracting painfully in his chest as he tried to force the words out. His hand moved to the camera in his pocket.

It wasn't time yet.

It was too soon.

But what had he done? What had that tyrant done to Mokuba that even Seto hadn't seen?

"Seto," he said sternly, "Look at me. Don't lie to me right now. This is very important. Does Mokuba have a birthmark there?"

The faintest shake of a head, pressing a smirk to his lips before he could bite it back. He thought he'd caught Pegasus in a lie.

Pegasus, withdrawing the camera immediately, only wished he had.

"It's all on that S.D card I gave you," he said, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Do you have it?"

Seto glanced down at his pocket without reaching for the card. Something was wrong and it had to do with Mokuba. Pegasus's movements were too quick, too sharp for the persona he had been upholding this whole time.

And then there were the little bits of information still trying to be processed. Gozaburo was back but not in the flesh (Does he want me for that?) and Isono had known something was wrong for months (Why wasn't I told?) and Pegasus cracked at the mention of a missing birthmark (What is wrong with Mokuba?).

Seto's mind caught up with him in a screeching halt. His fingers worked their way over to his pocket, trying to find their way inside but fumbling for a few seconds, unable to find an appropriate angle with wrists joined together.

Pegasus's evidence of Mokuba's safety was faked.

Mokuba wasn't safe.

Gozaburo had Mokuba.

"What?" Seto asked, unable to find an eloquent or full way to ask. "What's wrong with Mokuba?"

His middle finger brushed over the card and he brought it out, held between middle and index. He didn't extend it to Pegasus, but left it held in the air in front of him. For Pegasus to drop the game with the card so easily, something was wrong.

" _Say something._ "

Pegasus forced his breaths to come even and slow. "If Mokuba hasn't always had the mark they referenced at the bottom of his spine, my concern is that someone involved with your stepfather got to him that night at the hotel. Gave it to him. If they embedded something to track him I doubt they'd tip their hand, but then Gozaburo didn't always think ahead."

Seto's mind turned too fast for him to follow. He reached for the camera with trembling hands and forced the S.D card in. He wanted to believe this was all one big game, that it would reveal pictures of Mokuba on the island where he could get to and protect him–but everything Pegasus said would be there materialized. The screencap of the email, pictures of the hotel room– _of Mokuba_ –he felt sick. He clicked through the pictures slowly, unable to face confirming his brother's inevitable danger. A chill ran down the length of his back and sent shivers spilling through his body. He held his breath as he came to the shot in question, leaving the room too quiet. Too still.

His eyes trailed Mokuba's back over and over, each glance reinforcing the truth as it flooded through him. It had clearly been altered. If Pegasus panicked enough to let go of his trump card, his worry was genuine. He wouldn't know what to look for, but Isono had. He knew no one had so much as touched Mokuba. He would've told him–Seto's hands tensed around the camera–if he thought someone had taken his brother, no matter the risk, Isono would've told him.

But there were still too many unanswered questions for comfort. Where was Mokuba now, and what could Pegasus have possibly done upon learning something may have happened to him? How did these people have pictures of his scars, and why would they take the time to photoshop them onto his little brother's body in the exact same place?

He held his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the bile creeping up his throat. Pegasus's voice invaded his ears but he forced it out. Mokuba was running through the halls of Kaiba mansion, throwing open every door, calling for him.

 _"Seto?" Confused._

 _"Seto!" Desperate._

The camera fell from his hands and flipped to the next picture. He stared blankly at his legs and tried to follow the sound of his brother's voice.

"I need you to tell me if you've seen the mark before, even once." Visions of the boy's fall from the castle tower swam through Pegasus's vision, darkening the corners of his world. Maybe he was the cause of the scar. Maybe they were rubbing it in his face, knowing he'd probably be the one who volunteered to take the boy. Did they know he had Seto? Did they know Isono had Mokuba? He didn't know what to think. "Seto look at me. For god's sake!"

But he wouldn't. There was still no way to prove Mokuba was unharmed, and even less he could do to get the answers he needed. Every time he got near enough to Mokuba to stop their voices echoing for each other, he slipped further away.

How could someone look at a little boy and even imply they'd hurt him that way? He remembered the fire poker that left the scar, pierced and cauterized all in one motion. The way he moaned through tears on the floor, books in a frayed heap at his fingertips.

He couldn't let them hurt Mokuba.

He had to get out.

He pulled violently at the shackles around his wrists, searching for any give. When he found none, he tried futilely to squeeze them through the metal, drawing blood where the skin scraped away.

"Seto listen to me, I need to know if they had Mokuba." Pegasus pulled a sleek, black flip phone from his pocket and held it an arm's length away. Untraceable. "If they've found him and you call, you know what they'll do to him, don't you? Done. Game over. End. Do you understand me?"

Seto put a shackled foot against the chain between his wrists and stepped down. With no other choice, Pegasus pressed speaker and dialed. The phone didn't finish the second ring before a familiar voice picked up.


	7. Chapter 7

"We said we weren't going to—"

Isono.

"Change of plan," Pegasus interrupted. "Does Mokuba have that birthmark on his back?"

Isono was quiet for a long moment before he remembered. "Photoshopped," he said, nothing more.

Seto's head snapped up when he realized the voice wasn't another illusion. This couldn't be real. He had to be dreaming this. Pegasus call the very man he feared Seto would reach the night before?

What the _fuck_ was going on?

Pegasus was consumed, at first, by anger at being the only one who didn't notice, but it was quickly replaced with relief. "Before we get into this, did you get those files we talked about for the patent renewal, the folder should've been—"

"Royal blue," Isono provided.

The safe word.

Pegasus repeated it to himself. Mokuba was fine.

"The brothers Kaiba need to talk," he continued, locking eyes with Seto and bringing the phone closer to his chest so the boy would have to sit up to be heard. "Two minutes."

Isono seemed to consider this at length before grudgingly deciding Seto would accept nothing else. "Two minutes is fine," he relented. "Do me a favor and keep quiet. Mokuba doesn't know he's with you."

 _Good_ , both men thought in unison, for reasons of their own, _it's better that way_.

There was a brief hiss of static before Seto could make out the rasp of his brother's voice on the other line.

"Niisama?"

"Mokuba?" Seto reached for the phone only to have Pegasus lean back with it. The speaker phone distorted Mokuba's voice, but it was still unmistakably him.

"Niisama? Where are you? Isono won't tell me anything."

Pegasus's thumb moved over to the 'end call' button, raising an eyebrow as if daring Seto to tell the truth. But even Isono had requested Pegasus stay out of it for whatever reason. Seto couldn't risk the call being cut short.

"You're fine?" he asked, needing to hear it from Mokuba even if Isono was with him because Seto didn't know if he could trust Isono anymore.

 _—the strangest remark about the crescent moon birthmark at the bottom of his spine being only the beginning._

The only purpose of threatening to do to Mokuba exactly what had been done to Seto was intimidation. Mokuba couldn't hold up to everything done to Seto. He shouldn't have to. What was it going to take for people to finally leave Mokuba out of the countless revenge plans against Seto?

"I'm okay. I mean, confused you know? When are you getting here?"

He sounded fine. Unafraid. Seto clenched his fists to keep from tugging at the chains.

"I don't know, kid. Still some things to work out."

Pegasus nodded but kept his thumb over the button. Regardless, Seto could feel his heart slowing down after the panic from before the call. Mokuba was okay. Gozaburo hadn't gotten to him and hadn't copied over any of his scars.

"But where are you?"

Pegasus turned his wrist so his watch peeked out from his sleeve. They would have to say goodbye. If there was anything else, what else did he need to ask?

Seto kept his eyes trained on Pegasus's thumb despite it being the last thing he wanted to focus on. Hearing Mokuba's voice made him want to forget the world, if one could call this wormhole to hell a part of it, for a while. Would the two of them ever be safe to live their lives? Would they ever stop looking over their shoulders, fearing danger, counting the steps to the end?

He felt himself start to shiver but straightened rigidly to suppress it, managing not to make too much noise with the chains. Each moment was so ephemeral and he found himself trying to hold onto them as they passed, acutely aware that he wasting them. This could be the last time he spoke to Mokuba in...his stomach knotted at the idea.

He had to say something.

Had to think of something.

Pegasus met his eyes and moved to press his finger down, signaling the end of their time.

Regret's heavy grip contorted his face into something Pegasus's must've found interesting because the hint of a smile that always graced his eye before his mouth was there, "Mokuba, I..." He swallowed all the words he wanted to say, warnings he wanted to give.

"You have to go, huh?"

The world slid from its axis and pressed into his shoulders, the dread that followed softened only by familiarity.

 _Don't say that._

A sharp glance to Pegasus as he tapped his watch, tense and impatient.

His thoughts became a wordless plea to the universe, but he didn't have any more time to contend with its weight, "I do." Then he said, "Hang in there kiddo."

Mokuba was silent for a moment to force the cheer into his voice, "Don't stay gone too long," he chided, trying to sound playful. "I miss you."

Pegasus moved to end the call and he found himself looking fully into his eyes to stop him. "Please," he mouthed. He couldn't afford to be vulnerable in front of Pegasus, but with all his brother may come to face before he found a way to him, he could afford a premature goodbye even less.

"Love you," his little voice said, the same way it had all those years ago. On a swing set, in a bunk bed, under the dining table.

"Love you," Seto replied, and with that, promptly turned away to stop himself from lunging for the phone. Pegasus pressed down. The static cut short. All at once the hopelessness of his cell opened up and swallowed him.

"Touching," Pegasus purred from behind, watching as Seto's fists tightened to quell his emotions. "You had me worried he'd been gravely injured."

The statement, so nonchalant despite the note of relief, was too much. Seto shot to his feet and walked as far away as he could manage.

"Running away," Pegasus began in the tone of condescending patience a teacher might use to chastise their unruly student, "Is a terrible show of gratitude. Come back here."

Seto's wrists throbbed from the effort to break free, but he tugged anyway while standing back against the wall near the blood stain. His mind, his body, _everything_ burned with unshakeable energy. Overwhelming surges of, of ... Seto hardly knew how to think of it. He was overwhelmed by too many things fighting for priority.

Get out.

Mokuba's safe.

 _I wanted you._

Gozaburo's back.

Everything hurts.

Mokuba's safe.

 _You're at my mercy._

Get out.

Isono had known.

Still chained.

Gozaburo won't die.

Mokuba's safe. Mokuba's safe. Mokuba's safe.

He took one deep breath and stopped the flow of thoughts, but he didn't walk back across the room. He told Croquet he was done throwing punches, and being too close to Pegasus, too close to the phone, might tempt the idea. Three inches might have been enough slack to strangle someone.

First, Mokuba was safe. Seto let the thought settle with him before moving past it. Mokuba couldn't fake that sort of attitude under duress and he would have said something to tip off Seto if he felt threatened. And Isono was there.

That became Seto's second issue. How did Isono become involved with Pegasus? With a glance to the chain connecting him to the wall, Seto wondered if Isono knew what was actually happening. He couldn't. Seto refused to believe that Isono of all people had accepted associating himself with Pegasus with the knowledge that it meant chaining Seto to a wall in a dungeon.

"You made Isono trust you," Seto said, then hated the way he started out. There were too many ways to twist it around, and Pegasus would take advantage of any space he was given. "I can believe that he agreed to work with you. He doesn't have the unfortunate problem of having held your acquaintance as long as I have."

Seto paused, but only to collect his thoughts. Pegasus started to interject, probably to take offense, but Seto spoke over whatever he had started to say. "I don't care for your games. You saw an opening to keep me here and took it for whatever your reasons. At what point—" Seto held Pegasus's gaze to ensure the severity of his question connected. "—are you planning to let me go?"

"You're not going to like the answer." Even through the frenzy of emotions, Seto knew that was another way of saying he wasn't going to give it.

"Aren't you forgetting something very pressing? Little Mokuba is safe."

 _For now_ , Seto almost interrupted, but stopped himself as Pegasus shifted on the bed again. It meant he wasn't leaving any time soon, and Seto had no desire to hold his company. Maybe if he ignored Pegasus he'd give up the power play. It wasn't like he hadn't stacked the odds in his own favor. What fun could it possibly be to 'win' at this game when he'd programmed the victory?

"I can see what you're thinking," Pegasus said silkily, using Seto's eye contact to his full advantage, "'What does he want? Does he think he can keep me here forever?' Honestly Kaiba, your thoughts are so shallow. So short-sighted. Do you think a person who spends half their time in other people's battles is ready to invest in another one? I don't want to fight with you."

Seto couldn't help the anger drawing him one step closer, his arms flexed despite himself as he tried to fight back the urge to lunge for him. The entire room shook with the words he dared not say.

Then Why. Am. I. Here?

"Fighting, as I'm sure you'd agree, is so tiresome. But surrender is blissful." A hand brushed gently at the hair hiding his disfigurement, not enough to reveal it, but to indicate his meaning. "I know firsthand."

 _Then give up,_ Seto thought.

Fuck Gozaburo. Fuck the risks. No one was better equipped to shield Mokuba than he was. Who did Isono, Pegasus—all of these idiots—think they were? He'd been caring for Mokuba before he could say his own name. How dare they rob him of his brother, entrust themselves with his safety when they'd never kept someone safe a day in their life?

"Come back here," Pegasus repeated more sternly. "Tell me what you're thinking about."

"Isono knows where I am," Seto said. Pegasus's tone had him taking another step closer, but keeping out of arm's reach. The long chain from ankle to wall ran near Pegasus's feet, but Seto couldn't get it away from him without drawing attention to it. The last thing he wanted was for Pegasus to grab it and pull his feet out from under him.

"Gozaburo's already lost twice, so he's bound to fail again. You think people won't start looking for me then?"

Pegasus placed the phone in the breast pocket of his blazer. He didn't answer, but tilted his head down toward the chains.

Without knowing what Gozaburo was back for, Seto couldn't be sure how long it would take for him to be shut down again, particularly since it had been Seto to defeat him both times before, but it was inevitable. Gozaburo wouldn't succeed with anything he attempted.

"Where would that leave you? Do you think Isono won't come for me? That Mokuba isn't going to do whatever it takes to get me back?"

Pegasus rocked forward a fraction and Seto scooted back to maintain the distance. He was much more able to keep up with the conversation with just one subject up for question. It helped in keeping relative calm even with all the horrors buzzing around.

"What am I thinking about? I'm thinking if you wanted me to surrender, you wouldn't have put me here."

"All chained up and your fists are still flying." Pegasus chuckled lightly, making a move as if he might get up from the bed and watching Seto instinctively steady his body to counter the action. People with no fight don't flinch. "I'm going to keep talking you in circles until you realize I'm better acquainted with endless possibilities. Mine will outlast yours, Seto. Loss does that to a person."

The look in Seto's eyes incited something Pegasus couldn't quite place, but delighted in all the same. An urge to paint it stirred deep in his gut and he took a moment to commit the expression to memory. A fleeting reminder he would make eternal, that flames burn hottest when blue.

"I know, I know, it's a sin to say such things in your presence. After all, what right do I have to talk about the wounds of loss while rubbing salt in yours?" He was impressed Seto's civil tongue lasted this long. "Pain sharpens the mind, but hope keeps it alive—" He inched forward, dangling his legs from the edge of the mattress, "—tests its capacity." Blue eyes followed his feet to the floor, as if daring them to find ground there, get up, push forward. "I never considered you capable of such a thing, but I must say I'm relieved. Of course Isono will look for you." His voice was so soft, Seto barely heard it. "Of course he'll protect you."

Protect.

Why was Pegasus so obsessed with his being "protected?" One moment playing the knight in shining armor, the next an executioner.

"It's so fun getting to know you for all the things you could never tell me in words. I suppose your insistence that one man and a child could infiltrate my castle means I should enjoy you while you're here." He scoffed at the notion, "I told you I'm not here to fight, whatever you do, I'll learn what I want. Evidently, more than I want."

He folded his hands, smiling too gently, too easily for comfort.

"Isono isn't stubborn like I am. He would call the authorities," Seto said, although not expecting the statement to receive a reply. Pegasus had dismissed the idea without giving Seto the chance for the last word and it needed to be corrected.

More questions piled on to the previous, spilling over until Seto lost track of some of them. He reconsidered his plan to not eat because being lightheaded gave proof to Pegasus's comment about talking in circles. Seto felt the physical depiction of it, mind spinning, heart racing, vision so focused that the vivid color of Pegasus's suit nearly bled.

"Two questions. Answer them without games, without playing with words." Pegasus's too-amused smirk seemed to discount the notion without any further communication necessary. Why should he? He held the cards. He had Seto at his mercy. He would get what he wanted in time.

"You've given multiple answers regarding what you want. I doubt knowing that will change anything for me, so I won't question it again. But I have to know—" Seto said, letting more emphasis slip out than he intended. "—two things. I'd propose a trade but I doubt there's anything I can offer."

Maybe a few things, cooperation, calming down, laying low, surrender, but if Pegasus agreed, he would be the one to make the suggestion.

"Just two things. Does Isono know about this—" he paused to gesture as well as he could to the room. If Isono knew, then he could no longer be trusted with Mokuba and the phone call would have only proved that Mokuba was still alive. Isono couldn't know and still carry any of Seto's confidence. "And are you using Gozaburo as an excuse?"

Pegasus's expression softened into something Seto didn't recognize, "All right." Even the laughter that slipped out was different. Nervous, calculated, Seto wasn't sure, "There's no need to beg."

The word tumbled around his head like a landmine. Beg? Rage built in his legs and spread into his stomach, fear gripping him at the spine as the implication took hold.

He didn't dare look at Pegasus to demand his answer.

"It'd make this easier if your questions were more specific. Does Isono know you're with me? Yes and no. He thinks I've given you temporary run of the island with Croquet at your beck and call to maintain security. I'm supposed to be leaving the day after tomorrow for San Francisco: business to run, or something like that."

His gaze leveled on the back of Seto's head, willing him to turn around, but he refused. "Of course he was suspicious. As I anticipated, he outright refused to let Mokuba come with me and assumed my asking such meant my intentions were more to do with your company. Probably thought you could handle any prying for information better than he could." The laugh Seto knew pierced the air, short and low. "If only he knew."

The bed creaked under Pegasus's weight as he stood. Each step he took to bridge the gap between them prompted one from Seto to right it, until there was nowhere left to go.

"He knew I had to sedate you, that if we tried to explain anything you'd only fight it. We agreed not to have you communicate with anyone at KC until the threat blew over, which unfortunately included Mokuba."

He was standing just a few paces behind Seto by the time he finished speaking, and could feel him staring at the wall as if wishing to slip invisibly into it.

"I told you this whole thing was an opportunity for me, of course I used Gozaburo's threats, Isono's concern, to my advantage. But the danger is very much real. Isono made quite a show of demanding no one but you relay the specifics to your brother, if you so chose, but lying to him in the meantime is the only blow to your loyalty that I can come up with. Given Mokuba's confusion over the phone, I'd say he's serious about it. That's probably most of the reason he didn't want you two to talk to each other, whatever excuse he'd made would take a hit if you did."

He chanced another half step which Seto was careful to give no reaction, "The authorities did you so much good during your last stay, didn't they? As a matter of fact, so did Isono. When he realizes something is wrong, and has no choice but to tell Mokuba what's happened, I'm sure they'll work it out immediately and lead a perfect little rescue mission. I can't believe it never crossed my mind. Whatever will I do then?"

The skin at the back of Seto's neck tingled when he became aware of how close Pegasus stood. While Pegasus couldn't see his face, Seto rolled his eyes, relieving only the faintest trace of frustration. He focused on his breathing and not Pegasus's approach behind him, not the still lingering question of why. Pegasus wouldn't answer that and Seto wouldn't degrade himself any more by asking.

"You said at first that you were the only person equipped to keep me _protected_ ," Seto said, allowing the last word to come out laced with spite. "That this was the only place I could hide. That this was the only way."

Seto had to face Pegasus to watch for any response and judge for deception. But turning meant settling in with their faces too close. Seto had misjudged how far Pegasus had gotten. Rather than look for an escape—the wall a constant reminder at his back that he was cornered—Seto held up his chin so his question couldn't be misinterpreted again as begging.

His hands, though, had never felt more useless, hanging limply in front of him for lack of a better position.

"It's too many onlys. If this is the only place I can be, then he'll find me."

Keeping half his face covered must have made lying easier, half the expressions to read, half the flinches and twitches visible. But Seto had too much practice talking to half of this man's face to let it affect him.

"So what happens then? Isono and Mokuba might not be able to lead a rampage across the ocean and to your island, or maybe they could and you would just shoot them down when they got here," Seto said, aching at the thought. "But if Gozaburo wants me dead, he has an entire weapons empire behind him. He won't come. He'll send a missile."

Pegasus seemed to consider, so Seto piled on. "And if he does want me alive, maybe to boast about finally finding a way to knock me back down, he will have the manpower and machines to overpower whatever trite forces you have here."

And there was the third option Seto had thought of earlier, and he actually leaned in closer while addressing it. How Pegasus answered would influence how Seto acted.

"Or he already knows I'm here. That would explain the camera. He wants to see this done to me and is taking advantage of whatever your interest is—" (No, don't ask that) "—and getting you to carry out his dirty work."

There couldn't be a fourth option. Either Pegasus had deluded himself into thinking this situation could be made permanent or he had backing to help him follow through. And although he didn't say it, at this point, Seto would rather try his hand with Gozaburo.

"I don't know what's more intriguing," Pegasus said, letting his gaze travel the length of Seto's exposed neck intently, "That I've accidentally accounted for discovery by keeping you, the only strategist who's managed to rival Gozaburo Kaiba, or that you think I'd partner with the likes of him. My, My Kaiba, we learn new things every day."

His gaze flickered to Seto's for less than a moment before it resumed memorizing his features. He wondered absently if Seto knew how ridiculous he looked, holding to such frayed threads of authority and control. "There's no sense worrying myself with his nuclear capability. If he's willing to go that far to see you annihilated, and we both know it's too impersonal, I suppose I'll die happy."

Pegasus chuckled as Seto's body receded into itself in disgust. It was strange to be so casual with the gamble of his own life, but if Seto was even marginally serious about there being missiles involved, there was nothing he could do to counter them. If Gozaburo had gone entirely mad in the years since they'd spoken, he'd done enough to seal his fate in concealing Seto at all. Even if he let him go, it wouldn't spare his life.

"We both know Gozaburo Kaiba is ill-versed in the art of surprise. If he's coming for me, rest assured, I'll know. His men can't be that much to contend with if his ego still commands the army. You overturned his throne, disarmed his weapons empire, as one boy of fifteen years old. Well, one boy of fifteen, and two-share Mokuba of seven. The brothers Kaiba, always a team."

Until now.

The longer he stared at the veins running though Seto's neck, the more he imagined them stained crimson, pulsing with his final breaths. He wondered how far Gozaburo had gone to condition the boy, to make him so successful he ousted the master himself. How far would he go now, to reclaim what he felt was rightfully his?

The way Seto talked, he'd find out soon enough.


	8. Chapter 8

He let his gaze rest on Seto to relay his sincerity. "I'm not making snuff films for that monster." He paused to quell his own disgust at the thought, though no wonder Seto panicked if he believed him capable of such. "If this had been a matter of sacrificing you to his every whim or surrendering my chances of keeping you here, I'm loathed to admit it, but I'd have given you up."

Seto didn't like how Pegasus looked at him, too intent on _him_ rather than just holding his attention. There was too much being said through his gaze and not enough through his empty words.

 _I'd have given you up._

So if it came down to Pegasus and Gozaburo, Pegasus would surrender. And Seto knew he could defeat Gozaburo, who according to Pegasus, wasn't even back in the flesh. When he got out, it wouldn't be Isono who got his call, but Gozaburo.

Leaving his attention on Pegasus had been a mistake. He glanced in either direction, both to break the train of concentration on each other and to look for anywhere to move, any space that could be put between them. But if he tried moving, Pegasus could stop him with a simple hand.

"You're not going to let me go," Seto said, not waiting for confirmation before adding, "And I don't want Mokuba here. So you are telling me I'm never going to see my brother again, not unless you have him in matching chains."

Seto thought he found a few inches to his left, but Pegasus must have tracked his gaze because as soon as Seto moved, Pegasus followed. The air between them tightened.

He looked at the chain where it mounted to the wall. Asking for it to be removed likely wouldn't go anywhere, so he decided against it. He had never tried to pick the lock of a shackle, but it couldn't be that much different than a handcuff. And even if it was, he had all the time in the world to practice.

"You're giving me no incentive to play along."

If Seto could take anything Pegasus said so far for truth, it was that he didn't want him dead. And even if Pegasus was willing to let Seto die, at least he wouldn't go having surrendered.

"I'm done with your games."

"We're going to learn from each other, you and I," Pegasus said, holding his stance a few paces away from Seto, refusing to engage him physically. "I'll take all your inadvertent confessions and hide them away, keep them safe until you're ready to come into the light and talk about them—or keep trying to forget them—which is just sad, you know. If it makes you feel better to have a say in it, keep talking, or 'not talking' as the case may be."

His fingers grazed Seto's hand as if daring him to try something. He remained still, closing his eyes for a long moment before the touch disappeared.

"In the end, I've still got a window to the deepest fathoms of your being. It's only been two days and you've relayed more than I expected to find in months. Fears. Hopes. Trauma. Childhood. Fatherhood. Joy. The last two are especially heart-warming for me. I'm so relieved to know there's some semblance of happiness left in your life, with such sad eyes, and that ever-grieving soul of yours. You're too young to throw your life away to suffering."

Seto's eyes said what he forced himself to keep from vocalizing. _So you'll do it for me, is that it?_

"I've got plenty of incentive to figure out how to get your brother here on amicable terms now, don't I? Splice together some audio of our sessions and make a plea from you to him, how hard can it be? Let me worry with it, Seto. It'll be a while before your stepfather's plans fall through—and they will fall through—if anyone could've raised the dead, I'd have enlisted them by now. You see about getting out of those chains before Mokuba finds his way here. You don't want him to see you like this, do you?"

Pegasus savored Seto's expression as he consoled himself with the man's wild theories and contradictions, assuring himself not even Crawford knew what he wanted. His latest threat was as empty as the rest of his words, softened even further by the hundreds of reasons he'd never pull it off.

The hand found his again, gripping too firmly for comfort. Seto jerked away, knocking his shoulder against the stone wall with the motion. "If you only take one thing away from our time together, let it be this."

Pegasus stepped closer, pinning him against the rough surface. The chains rose to chest level before he stopped them. _Go ahead,_ Pegasus's piercing gaze commanded, _fight back_.

"You're not done playing until I say you are."

Seto's eyes burned. He couldn't fathom what they must have looked like to Pegasus, but they consumed his entire consciousness while everything froze. Disgust anchored in his stomach, more substantial than anything else he had experienced since waking.

He wanted to cover his face but couldn't with his hands stuck as they were. He accepted turning his profile to Pegasus as the best choice as his body screamed for distance. He needed space, he needed time, he need to control himself.

Pegasus fed off Seto's reactions: positive, negative, emotional. Even coming back devoid of any sentiment would be as clear as verbalizing his discomfort. His hand, the one Pegasus touched, twitched, eager to rub against his shirt to remove the lingering reminder of the unwanted contact. But he couldn't, not until Pegasus was out of sight.

The threats wouldn't work. Pegasus's words had been in search of a reaction, throwing Mokuba's name out there so callously, teasing him about not wanting to talk in order to draw out Seto's instinct to fight back, to prove him wrong. They were cheap ploys. Seto wouldn't fight back to put on a show.

With hands already up by his chest, Seto looked to Pegasus and pushed his hands forward, forcing Pegasus back to create the distance he desperately needed.

Pegasus must not have expected the action, not rough or violent, but slow and with purpose. Seto kept the eye contact as a distraction—Pegasus always seemed so interested in his eyes—until he had the room needed to sidestep once so he could reclaim his seat on the bed.

His fingers clenched once, just long enough to remove the sensation of the contact, before he reached over for the newspapers and started to read over the articles again.

There were plenty of residual emotions to antagonize, but Pegasus left them well enough alone. Denial was one of the stages of surrender, and he knew better than anyone the necessity of letting it take its course. Besides, Seto was the captive. Confining himself to a dungeon room all day, even to keep his company, wasn't something he was willing to entertain. He crossed the room soundlessly and shut the door without turning back.

The prolonged walk from the depths of the earth to the sanctuary of his private tower gave him plenty of time to clear his mind. Hone his focus. A cool breeze of the outside world teased his skin and tousled his hair. He made a show of unbuttoning his blazer as he crossed the courtyard, sliding out of it one arm, then shoulder, at a time.

He rolled the sleeves of his yellow undershirt and ascended the stairs to his painting studio. Though he didn't regret springing for video footage, there were some things the mechanical eye of a camera couldn't account for. Things which needed to be felt to be preserved.

He took a sheet of blank canvas against one of many bookshelves and positioned it on the easel. The shades he required called for a fresh pallet as well—he dared not stain hers with traces of another soul—so he took one from the decorative table nearby, littered with newspaper articles of a tyrant's supposed rise to power.

The day was too beautiful to ignore, so he opened the window and positioned himself in the natural light of the sun. He had a few hours of daylight left to bask in as he worked.

His stabbed the brush down into a blend of blue, letting the gentleness of the art ease into his limbs and force the tension of guard duty from his veins.

It had been a long time since he'd done this.

The first fleck of an iris.

It felt good.

* * *

When the door closed, Seto glanced up from the newspaper, although he wasn't sure what he gained from the action. He doubted Pegasus would return for a while. Not that he needed time to recover, but to prove a point.

 _I don't have to visit._

 _You asked me to leave._

 _Be as stubborn as you want._

He did take a moment to rub his hands against the flannel, removing the mental traces Pegasus had left. It would be so much easier to keep a clear head if Pegasus would keep his distance. Wearing the mismatched slacks and flannel shirt covered just as much of his skin as the suit had, but Seto felt more exposed.

Not even Mokuba touched him that much.

The old photograph of Gozaburo grabbed Seto's attention. None of the articles explained how Gozaburo proved his return, only that it had been confirmed. Maybe he paid off some informants. Although, there was still the matter of where his funds came from.

Pegasus spoke of bringing the dead back to life. It wasn't so complicated. Gozaburo didn't need his old body so long as his mind had somehow survived the virtual world. He had wanted to return inside Seto's body before. Anyone would do.

Killing Seto in the virtual world was a different matter from the actual world. Gozaburo wouldn't have fought his way back only to get arrested for his son's murder. He must have thought that through, made plans for it. Maybe he would torment Seto for a while before having him shot publicly so the world could see his faked innocence.

Seto liked his chances better with Gozaburo. Gozaburo had public image and the law working against him.

Pegasus had a fucking island.

As a reminder that he couldn't ignore the bucket forever, Seto's stomach cramped. He couldn't help but think he would be more inclined to trust Pegasus if he had been given even a modicum of respect. But rather than treat Seto like a person, he had been left chained like a misbehaving dog.

Seto couldn't help but smile as he raised his hands to feel the almost unnoticeable scar left by the collar.

Pegasus shouldn't have been so surprised when accused of working with Gozaburo. They were both infinitely selfish, treating Seto as a commodity instead of a person, too focused on what they could use him for, what they wanted from him. _I wanted you._

After years of proving he was more than that, fighting for everything he had earned, and making a name apart from Gozaburo's, he was still only seen as an item. Something to use and then lock away until needed again.

"I'm sorry, Mokuba," Seto whispered. "I thought things had changed."

He shook his head after realizing how engrossed he had become in self-pity. Pity wouldn't help him here. Seto didn't need a fucking white knight.

Propping the pillow up against the wall, Seto reached his fingers back through the hole in the mattress, getting back to work on the spring.

* * *

As Seto's face appeared on his canvas for the first time, Pegasus found himself questioning if this endeavor had been a mistake. The fight in his eyes was more striking than even he had imagined, and left him wondering if Seto would be the same without it. His brow furrowed as he studied the work. Well into the midnight hour, he had no intention of stopping until it was finished, but was filled with a sudden urge to start over. To explore the hope in Seto's voice, though perhaps it was imagined, when he thought his employee might come to his rescue.

Every time he looked at the boy he was seized by two unstoppable desires: to know him and to own him.

He didn't want to cage the spirit he'd been delighted to find in the first place, but contending with Seto's unwavering refusal to be vulnerable in front anyone required more patience than he possessed. He doubted there was a gentle way to force his hand.

He painted the black undershirt that usually adorned Seto's chest, outlining the white trench coat at its edges. Anything else seemed uninspired. He'd watched the sun set as he finished the last locks of hair, and was watching it rise as he put finishing touches on the clothing.

He'd have to go over it of course, add layers, highlights. Depth.

The last minute addition of Seto's hand rising to his chest, free of chains and bonds, left him puzzled. He began to paint the rectangular outline of a card, but pulled back, unsatisfied.

Rather than fill the space with a long, craning neck and glorious scales, he painted a small face he knew from memories that were not his own.

It was nearing noon by the time he leaned away from the canvas and ran a finger along a smudge of gray paint on his arm.

There, he thought, admiring the work.

Seto wasn't merely ready to fight; he was ready to lay down his life.

The horror became disgust. The anger became an oath.

The card, most surprisingly, became a locket.

Pegasus rose with thoughts of a shower and a trip to the office. He was no longer in the frame of mind to face Seto and assert that freedom to live the life he wanted was too much to ask of someone.

The world, he thought, with heavy heart, was impossibly cruel.

* * *

Seto's fingertips bled. He sucked on the tip of his thumb while giving them a break from trying to unwind the metal ends holding the springs together. After however long it had been—long enough that the bucket was no longer unused, the thought of using a corner or caving to the childish impulse to piss on the door was too much—he had only managed to get half of the spring free.

He pressed his fingers against the edge of one of the newspapers to stop the bleeding, holding down until a red blot expanded into the nearest row of text. One of his nails had a deep tear that produced more blood than the size suggested possible. He stopped working, covering the hole with the pillow, to give his fingers time to recover.

By the time Seto's stomach growled loudly enough that it echoed in the small space, he had moved on from the springs, leaving the task for later, to the shackles. Getting the springs would be a fruitless effort unless he could get off the wall. Since his ankles were chained together as well, it would be best to get those bands off, but he could work with either option.

The mount on the wall connected with the chain as a solid piece. There were no locks to pick, but it clung to the wall with three heavy-duty bolts. The space to grip was too small and the stone they met with too strong. Without a tool, they wouldn't budge.

But the bands on his ankles, the one with the holes rather than padlocks, might be easier to break. He angled one of the holes to the light and saw the tip of a screw inside. Getting it out just involved finding something to act as a screwdriver, not a key like he first anticipated. And if he could get both open, he would be able to run once out.

After gathering his information and compiling a list of what he needed, Seto stared at the light. He would need something to handle it as well. All he had would carry the charge or was flammable—

He glanced from the light to the wooden door.

It'd be easier than getting out several springs.

Seto folded one of the newspapers and slid it under the mattress. He left the others where they were since Pegasus didn't seem to have minded leaving them, but if he changed his mind, there was a chance he wouldn't count the stack.

And he took the food from the lunch plate and dumped it onto the breakfast plate. He rolled the plate and folded it once, sticking it down in the mattress. Pegasus might check under, but likely not inside.

The next time someone brought in a meal, Seto said nothing and ignored the nameless guard. He carried out the old plate and said nothing about the amount of food left on it.

Seto picked up the small juice box from the plate and rolled his eyes, but plucked off the plastic-wrapped straw. The box ended up back on the plate, but Seto bent the straw over on itself before sticking one end in his mouth and biting on it, flattening it as best as he could.


	9. Chapter 9

The world turned slower when Pegasus was away from the dungeon. Business didn't occupy his mind the way conversation had, and he felt its weight the first moment he stepped into his office. Tiring hours between conference calls and draft revisions were filled with thoughts he couldn't afford to have. Worry he didn't want to admit. When was the last time Seto had been given fresh drinking water? Who had checked the wound on his neck to make sure it showed no signs of infection?

Though he showered to start the day fresh and awake, he went through it groggily and without focus. There was only so much 'catching up' to do in his position. Outside of card designs, which would steadily find their way to production over the next six months, his tasks consisted of various phone calls to touch base, the occasional 'thank you' card, and copious amounts of fan mail.

It was after nine when he forced himself from the desk chair, cracking his back in the process, and made his way to the master bedroom to change. Lounge pants and a long sleeved T-shirt of his alma mater happened to be most comfortable, so he finished the outfit with slippers and called it good enough. Seto's mismatched attire wasn't exactly the picture of fashion, so what did it matter?

He hummed as he walked, pointedly ending the melody when he came to the corridor leading to Seto's room. The slippers would quiet his footfall and veil his approach. If he was sleeping, the click of the door likely wouldn't be enough to wake him.

He nodded to the guards as he passed and they quietly returned the gesture. Twenty steps to the door. Fifteen.

Strange, the way Seto's presence had him counting everything from breaths to hours.

He entered as Seto took a long drink of water and was glad at least that fear was alleviated. The bucket by the door smelled of disinfectant which likely meant it had been used, but he decided not to comment. Seto gave no indication of having heard him enter, which was probably deliberate.

Pegasus came around the side of the bed, allowing his gaze to sweep the boy's body: hunched over in such a way that Pegasus felt the ache.

The chains would have to come off at some point during the day. Seto needed to stretch, exercise, walk around without restraint, or he was going to waste away.

He stared at the heap of food on the plate, untouched, and nudged it with a foot as he took a seat on the bed.

"Starvation's an interesting way to go."

Seto paused at his first glance towards Pegasus. He couldn't remember having seen him in anything other than a suit. The casual attire could have been a message, an attempt to convey some pointless idea, but Seto was too tired to figure it out.

Pegasus sat closer than he had the previous day, and Seto made up the difference by scooting over half a foot. It put him almost on top of his pillow and in better position to cover the ripped mattress and hidden newspaper. The guards hadn't seemed to notice the missing plate, but if they had, Pegasus would be the one to comment.

At least he had stopped working on the straw, also hidden inside the mattress, before Pegasus had returned. He would have to be more careful in the future. The guards and Croquet were easy enough to hear coming, but Seto hadn't heard Pegasus.

"I'm allergic to milk," Seto said. Pegasus might not believe him, but it hardly mattered. Seto's medical records were all locked tight—a carry-over from the Gozaburo days—but Mokuba's weren't. If Pegasus had done any research, he would have discovered that fact. It wasn't such a stretch for both of them to have the same allergy, and the only way to disprove it would be through force.

And the meals he had been brought so far either had milk as a part of them or the packing warned against cross contamination.

He checked to see if he had been believed and was met with a doubtful expression. Maybe with a bit of confusion. Pegasus likely didn't expect him to say anything after how the last visit had ended.

Seto was done playing Pegasus's games and refused to learn whatever tricks Pegasus had planned for him. That didn't mean he was done fighting. He would get nothing from the guards, only slightly more of a chance with Croquet.

That left Pegasus.

Pegasus considered for a moment and found no worthwhile argument. If Seto wasn't going to eat, all the excuses in the world would run out eventually. If he really was allergic, it was an easy fix.

"You should've said something," he scolded at last. "There's an entire fridge full of food up there." He waved a hand upward to emphasize his point.

Seto moved further back on the bed, bunching the blanket that refused to move under Pegasus's weight. Once he was against the wall at a fairly comfortable angle, he stared at the one opposite him intently. Pegasus waited a minute or so, expecting him to say something, and barely sighed when met with silence.

For someone so hard pressed to avoid surrender, Kaiba was proving to be his own undoing. The sedentary lifestyle would be hard enough on his body without severe lack of nutrients. If he'd cooperated even a little, Pegasus might have offered longer restraints, breaks without them, or trips the the bathroom on the next floor up a few times a day. But he couldn't risk that now.

Not yet.

"What would you like?" he asked at last.

This warranted a roll of Seto's eyes.

"I'm serious," he prodded. "You've been without food long enough. If you thought the concussion was causing problems yesterday, wait until you're dealing with low blood sugar on top of it."

His tone was casual and devoid any flourish of concern, but he doubted Seto would budge even still. The whole point of providing packaged foods was to prove he wasn't going to slip him anything, but it had apparently backfired.

"I eat a lot of fruit," he offered. "There's plenty of that if you don't trust me to do your cooking. A protein shake would keep you full enough to sleep tonight." His thoughts jumped straight from the shake to coffee, but nothing good could come of caffeine at this hour. "Would you drink that if I brought it?"

Seto nodded and closed his eyes.

Pegasus hadn't acted like he cared if Seto had a concussion the day before, so Seto didn't see the point in bringing it up now. Commenting on it would only lead back into an argument. Besides, he had plenty of experience with low blood sugar.

Seto sent up a prayer to every supposed deity he could think of that his stomach would keep quiet with Pegasus in the room. He had no intentions of starving himself any longer, not before he had at least tried to get out. If he did die, it wouldn't be here.

He moved further back on the bed even though it put him in the corner. His legs came up with him, and Seto tried to keep from huffing or showing any sign of irritation when he had to lean forward to untangle the chain from his foot. His aim was neutrality.

His requests for the games to cease got him nowhere, but Seto could keep from encouraging them.

The bed creaked and Seto wasn't sure if it was his doing or Pegasus's. Regardless, he opened his eyes to see Pegasus in his peripheral.

He needed to stay focused because he had to eat, and if he was going to uphold this milk allergy excuse, he would have to list something. And the straw had proved an ineffective screwdriver. Getting something that called for a fork, even a plastic one, might give him the tool he needed. Plastic would be better since he could just take a prong and leave the fork on the plate.

"Grilled chicken and steamed broccoli," he said. If Pegasus refused a fork, then Seto just wouldn't eat. He had water. He could hold out a while longer.

"Such a simple request," Pegasus replied, pushing immediately to his feet. "You're not watching your figure, are you?"

Seto manufactured a half-hearted glare and Pegasus tossed his hands up in mock surrender. "I see what lack of food does to you, Mr. Kaiba. I'll prepare it right away."

He moved to the door and shut it gently behind him, pondering the oddly specific request and making a mental note to ask him if it had any significance. Grilled chicken and steamed broccoli. He chanted under his breath all the way up the stairs, hoping a grill pan would suffice. He had two conventional grills, one for each outdoor patio, but they were both charcoal and would take much too long to heat at this time of night.

Croquet peeked over his shades as he passed him in the kitchen, likely retiring to bed soon. Pegasus nodded before returning to the food. The servant knew better than to assume it was for himself, Crawford grazed more than anything, and never had an appetite past seven o'clock save the occasional bowl of stove top popcorn with a movie. He adjusted his collar and walked on.

Pegasus realized halfway through that he had no idea what Seto's taste ran toward. That meant one piece of white meat and one piece of dark to be safe. He didn't know which seasonings would be too spicy or too earthy, if marinade was too strong for his liking. Some people liked things, for lack of a better word, bland. He frowned, finding the better word as he laid the salt and peppered chicken on another paper plate. _Plain_.

The broccoli took just a few minutes to steam, and he chanced a drizzle of good quality olive oil in lieu of more salt.

He cut the chicken and broccoli, moving it to the side a bit and adding a generous helping of brown rice. He wasn't sure Seto would eat it since it hadn't been requested, but it couldn't hurt anything.

Thoroughly satisfied with his work, he grabbed a second plate and adorned it with various sauces the way one would apply paint to a pallet. Balancing one under the other with his thumb acting as a buffer between them, he took a fork and paper napkin in the other hand—he didn't dare trust Seto with a knife—and headed down.

It was after ten by the time he re-entered the room, tossing the fork and napkin gently onto the bed while being much more careful with the food itself.

"As you wished," he said, setting both plates between them with a mocking bow and assuming his regular spot on the bed. Seto glanced over briefly, forcing himself not to relay the disappointment of Pegasus's intent to watch him eat. "You have enough water, I assume?"

Again, Seto nodded. The guard at dinner had brought in two more bottles to replace the ones Seto had finished. The one he had been drinking from when Pegasus entered was still on the bed beside him.

Seto surveyed the meal, which had somehow gone from a simple request into an unnecessary display. It would have been better for Pegasus to give Seto exactly what he wanted as a good sign for any future request. He ignored the plate with the sauces and skimmed his gaze over the fork. Metal.

Before he reached for the plate, Seto _graciously_ realized that with the short chain connecting his wrists, he wouldn't be able to hold the plate and bring the fork to his mouth simultaneously. It would have to be balanced in his lap, and even then his left hand would have to come up with his right.

As discreetly as he could, which wasn't very with Pegasus's gaze on him, Seto tested the positions in his lap. Putting left over right made it harder for the fork to get to his mouth, and right over left was only marginally better.

He refused to ask to have them removed. There had been enough embarrassment in asking for one day.

There was the option of declining the food even though he had requested it. Or he could bring up the protein shake Pegasus had mentioned and Seto agreed to, and eat what he could while alone.

Seto wouldn't risk making a bigger fool of himself than he already had. He would have felt more confident in his ability to keep a hold on the fork while just pressing one wrist against the other if not for the raw skin aching underneath the shackles. His thumb was still raw from the rope and the nail on his index finger all but gone from the springs.

The other plan then.

"You didn't bring the protein shake," Seto said, keeping his tone flat and devoid of any accusation or interest. Pegasus would catch on.

Pegasus watched him fumble with the plate for a moment before reaching over and sliding it directly from his lap, with no thought of the invasion until Seto's entire being seized with the touch.

"Easy," he said quietly, straightening and toying with the band of his watch for a moment. From beneath the gold a small key came into view. "I'll pass seven men on the way to your shake," he said, unlocking the cuff of Seto's right hand and helping him out of it. "Don't make me regret this."

The deep bruise crawling from Seto's wrist up the palm of his hand caught Pegasus's eye for a fraction of a moment. Making a mental note to leave the key locked in his office drawer for a few days—to find a new hiding place on his person Seto wouldn't know about—he rose from the bed and quit the room.

"Keatley, Emerson, go stand at the end of the hall." He pointed over his shoulder to Seto's corridor, never slowing to continue the direction. "If you hear anything out of the ordinary, get in there."

A protein shake would only take a few minutes.

He frowned mentally on the way up the stairs, and again on the way down. As Seto had proven during the first day of their ordeal, glass would be a terrible and dangerous idea. He settled for paper. If not for Seto's pointed disregard of the sauces he offered, he might've chanced the joke of adding chocolate.

* * *

Seven men.

Seto took a moment to roll up his sleeve once, high enough to clear the raw and bruised skin, but not high enough Pegasus could see the scars. He stretched his shoulders now that he could move his hands apart and the bed creaked, making Seto wonder what qualified as a noise out of the ordinary. It was too early to try anything, and Pegasus needed to see that he wouldn't at the first opportunity.

But he did take the fork and try sticking a prong into the hole on the shackle at his ankle. It was much too wide and the prongs were too close together. Of course Pegasus brought down all disposable kitchenware except for the fork.

The plan had been to eat while Pegasus was gone because of the chain, but having it removed took away the need to rush. Seto went ahead and ate about a third of the plate, leaving the rice untouched, while waiting for Pegasus. Having someone watch him eat typically meant not eating. Seto didn't know why he found it so personal and never thought to look into it. But having Pegasus in the room would result in anything left on the plate staying there.

Because of the slippers, Seto didn't hear Pegasus approach. He set down the fork as Pegasus crossed the threshold, accepting the paper cup as it was offered to him. Pegasus moved the plate with the sauces to the floor before sitting back down, and Seto took a careful sip to prove the request hadn't been for show.

He picked at the food for the next few minutes, feeling Pegasus's gaze on him all the while. The food already in his stomach threatened to come back up under the scrutiny.

"You're staring," Seto said, although he had promised himself he wouldn't.

Pegasus blinked, having forgotten himself, and focused his attention on counting the creases in the stone masonry of the wall. Striking up conversation would be more trouble than it was worth while Seto was trying to eat.

He followed the lines from floor to ceiling, making mazes out of them and counting the numerous dead ends. He managed to get about three feet, to the corner of the room, from the farthest start to end point. He wondered if Seto practiced similar mental exercises with so little to do outside of them.

Eventually he'd bring a puzzle book down. Seto would like that sort of thing. He wondered if there was a crossword puzzle on any of the newspaper pages he brought earlier. He'd read them many times before handing them over, but couldn't remember anymore. A quick glance didn't tell him much. Seto had folded them methodically, probably to mark certain sentences he wanted to dissect.

Something stirred at the notion, but he pushed it back. He thought about his time at the office, the way his mind wandered to all the things he couldn't bear to think about—the same way it did before Kaiba's capture—during the idle minutes of idle hours. He found himself nodding. Even if he couldn't trust Seto with a pen, he'd have to figure out something to bring down.

Maybe he'd start leaving him with riddles and rewarding him for answers in the afternoon. A scoff followed the idea, but he bit it back. Keeping him here was like training an animal, but with so much resistance there was little else to be done.

"For future reference," he spoke at last, talking to himself was one thing, but the risk of answering himself in front of ever-observant Seto was irritating at best, "What can I bring you for breakfast?"

The fork met the plate, and though it was instinctive, Pegasus managed not to look over.

Seto put down the half-empty plate on the bed in between them. It was hardly a shield, but another small obstacle Pegasus would have to move to get to him. What could Pegasus bring him? An actual change of clothes would be a start. He still wore his slacks and shoes, although if Pegasus's current attire was any indication, it might have been best that Seto just had his shirt replaced.

A toothbrush would also be welcomed. No amount of swishing water around could substitute brushing. No one had commented on his breath so far, but it couldn't have been pleasant. Seto understood that it would have been difficult to keep a toothbrush in here and clean, as well as having to use water from a bottle to brush, but he could make do.

Seto scratched his jaw and felt the stubble there. Pegasus could bring him a razor. But he might want to see Seto looking disheveled, particularly if _that_ was how he was going to look during his visits. It was another power play move, more psychological, but not outside Seto's expectations.

When Seto had commented on Pegasus not being prepared to keep someone prisoner, he meant it. It wasn't as simple as installing a few chains and removing a door handle. People needed more than that, and Pegasus seemed to have forgotten most of the basics. Even the obvious details—Seto had a row of stitches on his neck and a bandage on his head—weren't being addressed. Maybe Pegasus wanted to use his stash of amoxicillin after all.

Even with the silence, Pegasus still hadn't looked over, which Seto grudgingly appreciated. He hadn't expected Pegasus to match his tone, keeping the quiet of the room intact. Pegasus might be able to outlast Seto in the mind games, talking in circles, arguing, but Seto could keep quiet. He'd had plenty of practice the last time Gozaburo was around.

When he suggested an idea for dinner, he hadn't anticipated needing to pick future meals. Having dealt with Mokuba's allergy for so long, Seto knew what he could and couldn't have, but that didn't mean he wanted to make the requests.

He stared down at his wrist in case Pegasus decided to break his staring contest with the wall, running a thumb over a blister.

"I don't eat breakfast."

"It would give you something to do," Pegasus said thoughtfully, "Until I can get a better arrangement sorted out." He sat up straighter, reminding himself as he did several times throughout the day to mind his posture. He'd spent a long stretch of his adolescence hunched over and slumped forward, fighting with computer monitors and TV screens. It only took six months for the newly acquired chiropractor to change his ways.

Seto hadn't answered and was probably looking over him with scrutiny. It sounded much better in his head. Everyone occasionally ate for something to do, but making a habit of it wasn't a good idea.

"I'll bring you something substantial, you can skip it if you prefer." He shifted on the bed as if he might get up again, but thought better of it. Something about the quiet of the room and the ease of conversation, despite the awkwardness, called out to him. He wondered how long it would take for them to be back at each other's throats.

Seto gave a small noise of approval, prompting Pegasus to turn and really look him over. His schedule was meticulous and included several check-ins throughout the day, but there was only so much the guards could do under present conditions. Seto's stitches were still ripped toward the top, though the cut itself didn't look angry or inflamed. Seto's hair was clumped in patches with coagulated blood. He needed to shower.

The stone room they'd prepared at the top of the castle—bars recently installed on the windows—would be much better for this sort of thing. Full bathroom, sheets on the bed, Game Boy pointedly removed since it had been the same one used to bribe Mokuba during his stay. Seto was doing well for having one restraint removed, but he could manage little more than snark under near-constant supervision.

Pegasus wrestled with his thoughts. Eventually, within the week, Seto would have to be moved. Until then he'd need at least two, probably more like three showers in the upstairs bathroom.

A vivid flashback drew him from the bed, straight to his feet. Searing pain tore through his face, blood running down his shirt collar and staining his hands. For months there was blood under his nails. Every time he blinked he could smell it. Tilted his head back, tasted it. Three showers, seven days. Seto couldn't wash away the fight with twice that many.

"I have to put that back now," he said, voice distant and unfocused. "You can decide if you want me here long enough to give the other wrist a break too."

He stared at the wall. He'd have to look at Seto eventually, see the blood dripping from his head and the world blurring with every move. But not now.

Right now he needed to contend with the other voices in his head until his own found dominance. Asserting that Seto was fine. His vision was fine, for now. His head wasn't bleeding, for now.

Scrubbing it wouldn't only cause trickles.

Blood under his nails, in the water, on the tub.

A hand rose to his face and he tried to make the sensation of trailing his fingers down feel real.

Head injuries didn't trickle.

Seto had flinched when Pegasus jumped to his feet, but collected himself before Pegasus noticed, he hoped. His left hand, the one holding the cup and with the empty band of the shackle dangling from it, lowered to his lap. Of course the shackle would have to go back on. Seto wasn't stupid enough to think he would get away with just a day in chains.

He transferred the cup to his right hand and moved it off the bed and to the floor. The movement reminded him of the pain, but Seto ignored it and focused on what it meant. While Pegasus still wasn't looking, tracing his fingers down the side of his face, Seto wrapped his left hand around his right wrist and had to bite down on the gasp that tried to escape.

Pegasus clearly wanted to spend time with Seto, so the best Seto could do was refuse. Getting out would involve working with Pegasus, but the man's strategies had changed so much Seto didn't want to try cooperating until his kidnapper settled down. Pegasus spouted off so many different theories that Seto didn't know what to believe; he didn't know if Pegasus knew what to believe.

Putting the shackle back on would only make it hurt more. The break, while good for his shoulders and back, had tricked his body into thinking it could start the healing process. He didn't want a repeat on his left wrist.

So he took the other end of the shackle and forced himself to wrap it around his own wrist. His jaw quivered at the rush of pain, but he swallowed and took a breath before saying, "You can go."

His right hand trembled. While his fingers held the band closed, waiting for Pegasus to reproduce the key, he pressed his elbow against a knee in attempt to stop the shaking.

Pegasus couldn't find the coherency he needed to look back at Seto. He stared hard at the wall while the boy trembled, biting his lip. The call of his name did little to sway him, but he blinked a few times to force the illusion of pain to bring him back to himself. Consuming. Like Lightning. No adjusting to it.

The world spun as he turned, taking half steps, and knelt on the floor at Seto's feet. It was a compromising position but he couldn't think about that in the moment. The bed vibrated under Seto's weight, making his legs shake as Pegasus's eyes trailed up his body, trying to see his way out of the tomb. The trembling of Seto's hands, one from exertion, the other from pain, matched his own.

He closed his eye and drew a breath. As he let it out, he forced himself to focus on the details of the dungeon. Cold and damp, not humid and sweltering with relentless Egyptian heat. Illuminated, but not by flame. Thank the gods, not by flame. He remembered being held down as the wound was cauterized, again, after months of nursing it, to stop his bleeding. How the metal scorched and the screams died into moans against his gag, body too weak to bring them up from his chest anymore.

He found Seto's left hand and tore it away, leaving the shackle open. He slid it away from the wrist, fishing for his key.

Questions lingered somewhere above and beyond him. Accusations. Demands.

 _What are you doing? I told you to leave._

 _Get out._

 _Get out._

 _Get. Out._

He wished he could just get out.

How many years would he descend the stairs to hell before they crumbled?

When Seto's left wrist was free he let a hand linger over it. He felt the fingers trying to twist free beneath him, but they were too stiff to carry much force. It was only when Seto hissed at the pain, letting the chain drop to his lap as he drew his arms nearer to himself, that Pegasus finally met his eyes.

"You're going to leave," he whispered, shaking his head. "I know you are."

All the hurt he'd endured swelled up in Seto's body and he flinched away from the chaffed wrists with blood on his hands. He stumbled, pushing against the stone floor and smearing the crimson into his skin before finally finding his feet.

Blood ran down the line of his vision until it was all he could see.

When had he wanted Seto to hurt so deeply?

Like this?

Why, when he repeated the words to himself, drawing bile up to his throat, did some small part ache for it?

"I know you are," he whispered.

And suddenly the eyes he stared into weren't Seto's at all.

The weight of the shackles in his lap couldn't distract from the overwhelming fear. Seto rubbed his hands together, avoiding the injured parts and focusing on ridding himself of Pegasus's lingering touch. He had expected him to turn the key and leave, not remove the chain entirely. Seto was confused, and the confusion brought out fear— _terror_.

Pegasus was gone. Seto didn't know how he could tell, but looking up at him didn't feel like looking at anyone. It was Mokuba's lifeless body, led in by chain.

And having one chain removed didn't mean he could leave. Seto was still stuck in the room with Pegasus although the door stood open. Maybe he should have called for someone. Seto never saw himself during an anxiety attack, but maybe that was the expression that resulted in Mokuba having called in a doctor.

 _You're going to leave._

There were too many ways to take it, too many paths for Seto's thoughts to wander down. He couldn't have known that Seto had not just one, but two escape plans underway. He had told Seto not to expect to leave. And he wouldn't let Seto go, not after all this.

Was it death, then?

Seto pushed the shackles out of his lap and got to his feet, narrowly avoiding the cup and Pegasus's hand as it followed Seto. He stood at the end of the chain with as much distance between himself and Pegasus as he could create. He glanced toward the doorway in search of a guard, anyone, someone to make sense of Pegasus's statue act.

Act? Was it an act?

Pegasus's blank gaze had followed him across the room, less empty now than before. The set of his lips had changed, his posture, his aura.

Seto's heartbeat picked up when he saw a step in his direction. There were seven men between the dungeon and the upstairs floors. One of them would have to hear if Seto called.

Pegasus stepped closer and drew a finger with Seto's blood to his lips. "Don't scream," he whispered, and pressed down in a hushing gesture.

Seto's neck snapped back, no longer allowing him to look at Pegasus. He strained a bit against the chains but not enough to send himself stumbling. He couldn't make out any figures in the dim light, but thought he caught a shadow leaning into the corridor. Maybe if he waved his arms?

His main concern was the readiness of the guards to use their weapons. Pegasus loomed a few steps closer to command his attention, but Seto couldn't afford to give it. Would flaunting his freedom be as good as a death wish? Especially with his ankles bound and the listlessness of Pegasus's features, calling for help felt more like securing his own ambush.

"Look at me," Pegasus murmured, body at his back, breath against his neck. "Look me in the eyes before you go. I want to see you." Seto expected the man's hands to roam his body as they seemed so inclined to do, but he remained still.

Cold fear ran down his spine, prying his jaw open even as his mind blanked for words.

Although the open door was in front of him, Seto had gotten himself stuck at the end of the chain. His shoulders shrugged up to fight off the chills caused by Pegasus's breath and he tensed, waiting for Pegasus to do something.

He hadn't wanted to talk more than necessary. Direct questions, direct answers, but he needed Pegasus to snap out of this trance. He needed to create space, but Pegasus straddled the taut chain on the floor. There was no way to turn without tripping, not with Pegasus as close as he was. The claustrophobia of entrapment set in, gripping onto Seto's heart.

Seto tilted his head as far as he could, unable to see Pegasus's eye, but only the curtain of hair. Phantom hands grabbed his waist and kept him from moving while continual exhales attacked his skin. Seto wondered how much inadvertent touch it would take before he cracked.

"Where am I going?" he asked, voice low and even although his jaw shook as the chills ran up his neck and behind his ears. He didn't know who he spoke to; he didn't know who Pegasus heard. The air thinned while Seto waited for a response and hoped for space to breathe.

"To the place dreams go, my dear, when they die."

He stepped pointedly on the chain, forcing Seto off-balance. He managed to right himself, but not before fumbling blindly into Pegasus and tearing his shirt as he gripped it for stability.

The sound of the fabric shredding into his fingers, ripping his nail the rest of the way, was all it took to send him over the edge. He turned on Pegasus with all the wrath of an animal. Both hands dug into his chest, a few fingers finding bare skin as the hole in the fabric stretched from his thrashing. The man went down the like a stone, back colliding with the wooden frame of the bed and cracking it as the breath left his body.

"Stay with me," Pegasus called over Seto's ragged panting.

 _Wake up, for fuck's sake, wake up!_

Cecelia's face ensnared his senses. Seto's blows felt like desperate nudges under water, trying to break his grip and bring him back to the surface. There was nothing but the glorious song of his name on her lips, the purple light of magic he hadn't known as such back then. And then she was gone, and the waters rippled with his breaths bubbling up to the surface.

 _Gone._

 _Gone._

 ** _Gone._**

His eye snapped open to Seto's body heaving over his own. Cecelia's eyes stared back at him, suspended in a frenzy of indiscernible emotion.

Why did he make her feel so alive?

Seto's voice clashed into his thoughts like thunder. _Stop fucking staring. Stop fucking touching me._

It took him a minute to realize his hand clutched Seto's chin in a vice grip, immune to the various attempts to pry it off. Several men ripped Seto away from him as far as the chains would allow, and as he sat up, dizzy and disoriented, watched them reach for the restraints that had marred the boy's hands.

"No." He croaked, "No—let her go!"


	10. Chapter 10

Croquet's flinch was all it took to realize his mistake. The room came into focus, all secondary pain dulling into aches as he sat up and felt it flare brightly across his back.

"Let him go," he warned darkly, and the hands, too many to number as he stood, grew slack in their grip.

Hands slacked and Seto stumbled a step forward. The guards behind him had followed Pegasus's order, but stayed in place. He caught the slight lift of Croquet's hand, as clear an indicator as Seto could see instructing them to hold steady. They didn't move. No one moved.

 _let her go_

Seto closed his eyes so he didn't have to see Pegasus. His head dropped and he pushed a hand to his mouth, unsure if he felt nauseated or terrified. He hadn't meant to snap like he had, but he also hadn't expect _that_ from Pegasus. Seto didn't know what that was or how to interpret it.

He heard his name and dared a glance ahead of him. Pegasus extended a hand and Seto stepped back, only to have the guards shove him back forward. They had released him the first time, but now had put force behind the action, driving him closer to Pegasus than before.

Their thoughts were practically audible.

 _Let the boss do whatever. The money comes regardless. What does it matter that he sees the kid as_ —

Nothing came to mind that might help him. No words, no plans, no actions. His chest constricted, even tighter as Pegasus moved in another step, walking carefully like he was trying not to set Seto off again.

Seto's vision tunneled down to Pegasus alone. He couldn't breathe, the memory of Pegasus's hand grabbing his face with that dazed expression encompassing everything.

 _let her go_

Before Seto tried taking another step back, Croquet slid in between them, temporarily cutting off Seto's line of sight.

Pegasus's voice was barely audible but Seto caught the strain in it through Croquet's back. "Move."

"Do you know where you are?"

"I could've sworn I was in my own home speaking to a subordinate, but evidently—"

"A thousand pardons, Master Pegasus." Croquet gave a short bow. "It seemed you weren't yourself for a moment."

"I extend you none, Croquet." Irritation rose with the volume of Pegasus's voice. "Take Seto Kaiba to the tower and leave him unrestrained. You know where the sedative is should he resist. There are enough of you to thwart any significant problems until morning, and so help me if I find a scratch on that boy I didn't leave myself—"

"We understand, sir," Croquet interrupted, watching each of Pegasus's angry breaths heave with his chest. The taller man put a hand on his shoulder and shoved squarely, so he took the final hint and stepped aside, leaving Seto no defense against Pegasus's gaze.

"Make sure he can access the shower," he snapped. "It'll take me weeks to get the stench of his adrenaline off me."

With that he strode angrily out of the room, leaving Seto with seven guards too stunned to do anything but watch their master go.

Croquet was the first to respond. He gave the order for one of the men to fetch the key to take off the shackles and the man closest to the door scurried to obey.

The air returned to normal once Pegasus left, and Seto calmed himself with a few steady breaths. His only consolation was that the others, namely Croquet, seemed equally confused as to what had just happened. The need to know, to be sure, was devastatingly prominent, but Seto knew he would never ask.

By the time Seto's ankles were free, he realized that leaving the room meant they would find the hole in the mattress, the newspaper and plate tucked away. They pushed him out of the room before he had the chance to move anything, to try to hide the evidence of what he had done. One of the guards walked on either side of him, each gripping his upper arm tight enough that he couldn't pull free, but not with enough force to bruise. They were all walking under threat—Seto of the sedative, the guards of the unspoken.

He considered fighting back, but Pegasus had instructed him to be left unrestrained. He doubted that he would wake up—because surely they would sedate him—free if he fought. The tower had to be better than the dungeon, and a shower meant a bathroom instead of a bucket.

He had forgotten that his ankle had been hurt until they reached the stairs. After a flight, he had to slow down, but the guards couldn't do anything to make him walk faster. Like Seto, they were still too stunned to do much more than follow directions, and the most notable of them, cause no additional injuries.

Croquet went ahead of them and disappeared around a corner. The procession with Seto moved at a pace fitting of his injuries, and they caught up by a doorway at the end of a hall. The door had been opened and they led him inside, pushing him in with a slight shove.

Croquet unlocked a door off to the side, letting it swing open to reveal a bathroom. He pocketed the key and made to leave, but Seto stopped him by saying, "Don't send a doctor, but get something to cover these." He held up his right hand, sleeve still rolled once to show the bright pink and purple skin.

With a dip of his head, Croquet left the room, followed by the tell-tale sign of a deadbolt falling into place.

Pegasus mentioned a shower. As much as Seto wanted to dissect what had just happened, he knew he would think better after getting clean. A glance around the room didn't produce a change of clothes, but after the way Pegasus had talked, Seto suspected he would be brought a new set.

He walked first to the window, covered in thick iron bars, and looked out over the island. It was too dark to see detail other than the faint outline of trees and the reflection of the moon on the ocean. He had hoped that seeing outside would remove the sense of claustrophobia hanging over him.

It didn't.

He went into the shower before Croquet could return, stripping and turning the handle all the way toward hot. Seto stepped in without giving himself time to adjust, winced as it burned all of his injuries, and then sat on the floor.

The water around him ran red as the blood washed from his hair. Seto pressed his fingers together over nose and mouth and sat under the spray until it turned cold, doing everything in his power not to think about how Pegasus had looked at him.

Seto didn't bother to come out of the bathroom when he heard Croquet enter, and by the time the man had gone again, likely taking another sweep of the room for security's sake, he'd lost the strength to force himself to his feet. It felt like all the circulation had been cut off from his legs, and he silently wished he'd thought to grab the bottle of water before coming up. Not that he could stomach it anyway.

He laid his head against the dripping tile and closed his eyes. Rather than try to think of the horrors that awaited him in the morning, from the product of the guards' outrage at his escape plan, to Pegasus's guaranteed company, he sought to forget himself, tried to imagine being at the top of KaibaLand's highest roller coaster, Mokuba by his side, arms up and screaming through the air. He felt a sudden surge of dread at the idea of never seeing his brother clamber up the steps to the ride again, never feeling the wind on his face again, never getting to tell the only person he loved that he was right behind him.

He let the breath out of his body slowly and forced himself up to change, pausing to drink from the sink first. When Pegasus did come, and he was sure he would, he didn't want to be in nothing but a towel. Not knowing where the light switch was, and figuring Croquet had flipped it on purpose, he felt around in the dark until he came to the bed. His hand brushed something hard, a cap upon further inspection, but tossed the offending tube on the ground, sick at the thought of what it might be.

There were medical wrist guards as he had requested, but he decided to let the skin breathe for the night. He slipped into the clothes, pajamas judging from the fabric, and laid on top of the blanket until he fell into sleep.

* * *

Pegasus laid awake with his racing thoughts through the early morning hours, well after the sun commanded the horizon. Despite going on two days with no rest, it wasn't quiet enough to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Cecelia's voice threatened to pull him into the abyss. His head throbbed with visions of their childhood and confessions from young Seto Kaiba's mouth. Fifteen. Too young. Afraid but unencumbered.

What was it about that boy?

What had it always _been_ about that boy?

He rolled over, forcing himself to ignore the question until his body gave into exhaustion. He dozed off and on for a few hours before he mustered the desire to dress. He put on a lavender dress shirt, matching paisley tie, and gray slacks.

Then, smoothing his hair, made his way out of the bedroom. He was surprised to find both Croquet and Hadley awaiting him.

"Both senior members of security found it wise to be away from his room?"

"He's unlikely to try anything this soon after being freed, but Seto Kaiba isn't going to consent to stay here if given another option."

"I know that," Pegasus said softly, doing the best he could to quell the irritation in his voice. "He still thinks he has a life to go back to."

The concern in Hadley's features, ever present but usually better hidden, reaffirmed that he could never take Croquet's place.

"Maybe if you eased up a little—"

"Hadley," both Pegasus and Croquet cut in.

"Go find someone to patch up. I'll call you when I need you for Seto," Pegasus ordered. "He goes from stone walls to the best view of my island this place has to offer, leashed to penthouse suite access and _I'm_ being harsh? Clearly."

If he hadn't been fed already, Seto would have to wait a while longer. Pegasus didn't trust himself around him until he'd had a cup of coffee.

If his head was clear enough, and he was feeling generous, he might bring one for Seto.

At least, he thought, it would keep him distracted.

* * *

Light pouring through the window woke Seto. He rolled over to cast a shadow over his face, amazed that after two days, waking to the sun already seemed odd. But once awake, he couldn't fall back asleep.

He hadn't kicked the wrist guards off the bed in his sleep and he stared at them for a while, alternating his attention between them and his wrists. They had crusted over during the night, some of the blisters slighty deflated, but otherwise no better. He would have to keep them covered when Pegasus came in, not only to keep the attention off the injury, but to be prepared should Pegasus try grabbing him again.

But looking at his wrists brought up a more serious concern that he had been too occupied to notice the night before. The pajamas he had been given, a pair of charcoal sweatpants and a white t-shirt, didn't cover his arms.

The scars faded over the years, but not enough to conceal them. He supposed he should have considered himself lucky that his arms hadn't gotten the worst of the damage, mostly just circular burns with the one exception by his right elbow.

People had scars. Maybe Pegasus wouldn't comment.

Seto went into the bathroom and surveyed himself in the mirror. It could have just been that he was looking for them, but the scars popped out, dark against his pale skin. The flannel shirt was still on the floor. He could change back into it.

He took another shower first, and unlike the night before, made use of the toiletries left for him. More blood ran down while he carefully washed around the wound on his head, and he paid close attention to his neck, wrists, and ankles.

Once he finished, Seto patted the injured areas dry, spending extra time on the wrists that were about to be covered. He decided against the flannel after smelling it, then fixed his hair in the mirror.

All searching under the sink produced was a packaged toothbrush and box of toothpaste. Seto put both to use, spit, then brushed again. His reflection received a final look and a disproving sneer before he walked into the bedroom. It had been years since he had been this injured.

One step and Seto walked back, reaching right into the bathroom for his socks, discarded the previous night. He drew the line at facing Pegasus while barefoot.

The island spread out below the window, more land than ocean, with a series of rocky hills to his right. Seto settled in by the window, taking a break to grab the wrist guards once he was sure all the remaining moisture had evaporated.

He could have searched the room or played over the events knocking for access into his mind, but Seto leaned his head against the wall and watched a pair of birds flying from tree to tree. The view was similar to what Mokuba had described from when he had been in Seto's situation.

Seto didn't turn when the door opened.

Pegasus let the door close gently behind him. Seto's foot shifted slightly against the bed, body curled as far into the corner as he could manage while maintaining a glimpse of the outside world. Otherwise, he gave no reaction.

Pegasus untucked the folding metal chair from his side and carefully guided it to the stone floor. It was obvious the boy was awake and alert, he didn't know why he was muffling his every move, but it felt like the slightest misstep would scare him into an irretrievable stupor. He cast his gaze downward as he took a seat, eyes finding a small tube about halfway under the bed. Likely kicked there. Seto wouldn't hide something in plain sight.

Pegasus expected Seto to turn his nose to the corner at any moment in the desperate attempt to avoid his company.

He didn't want to think about the slip from the previous night any more than Seto did, so he reminded himself to be as patient as possible.

"I didn't take off those restraints for you to let the skin peel off from neglect," he chided in a volume one level lower than usual, trying to ease softness into his voice. "The Lanacane doesn't sting."

Seto's eyes flickered to his face for less than a moment.

As he suspected, he hadn't noticed the ointment.

When Seto made no indication to clarify what he meant, he stretched out a leg, catching the end of the plastic tube under his shoe, and slid it across the floor so he could bend down to pick it up.

Once he'd produced the yellow and white packaging, he held it up like one would in an infomercial. "Be generous with it. I'll get you more if you run out."

He tossed it, letting it bounce off one of Seto's legs without another word. He caught the black fabric of the wrist guards against the natural light. Maybe Seto had applied a layer before he put them on. He wanted to inspect his other wounds, particularly the one to his head, but couldn't at the angle he was positioned.

"I don't see a plate," he mused, as much to himself as to Seto. "Have they come and gone with it already?"

Seto hated the way his heart picked up as Pegasus rose quickly to his feet, as if he might lunge for him at any moment. He felt the warmth of the sun disappear as a cloud passed in front of it, allowing himself a few seconds of distraction as Pegasus crossed the room, demanded a meal and a list of morning watch, and settled right back into the chair as if nothing happened.

If Pegasus wasn't going to bring up the incident, Seto wouldn't either. He couldn't ignore Pegasus forever, but words wouldn't fit together into sentences or anything coherent. His mind kept playing 'let her go let her go let her go' on repeat, not allowing anything else priority.

But Pegasus just sat there as patient as ever, like the previous day hadn't happened. He had ordered food but Seto's stomach rolled at the idea. Seeing Pegasus brought back the fear from the night before because being free from the chains didn't free Seto. Now the threat of going back in shackles hung in front of him.

Pegasus wasn't going to— _let her go_ —let him go.

There wasn't much else for him to move, not with his right arm pressed to the wall by the window, effectively hiding the most noticeable of the scars, and his left across his lap. He wasn't ready to discuss them, or even to see Pegasus's reaction upon noticing.

But his hands twitched with energy, looking for something to do, so he picked up the tube Pegasus had tossed over, turning it as if to read the warning label. The wrist guards limited his movement, probably intended for a sprained wrist than rubbed raw, but it kept them covered and so stayed on. Applying it in front of Pegasus was out of the question, but seeing the word 'antibacterial' made Seto reconsider ignoring the advice.

 _l_ _et her go let her go_

Seto hadn't wanted to ask any questions, but figured that one couldn't hurt. He practiced the sentence in his head several times over before asking, "Why did you take off the restraints?"

Pegasus opened his mouth to reply but a soft knock at the door stopped him, "Come in," he called over his shoulder. "Leave it."

The nameless guard obeyed, never crossing the threshold into the room but bending to leave the plate and slip out in one motion.

"Have you been here all morning?"

The guard stopped, perplexed. It seemed like the kind of remark Pegasus would make to tease the kid, and it was only when the room began to swell with signature impatience that he realized such wasn't the case. "No sir, I just took over for Keatley."

Pegasus gave a little 'mm' that only Seto could hear. "Tell Croquet Keatley's next check is to come in the form of a watch." The peon sputtered but couldn't get his words out. "Now."

Seto stilled at the familiar urgency in Pegasus's voice, but settled himself as the vaguely familiar suit disappeared. The last thing he wanted to do was seem on edge in front of Pegasus, as if it was remotely avoidable. He steadied his breaths and waited for the answer to his question, not bothering to meet Crawford's eyes for fear of what might lie behind them.

"They were hurting you," Pegasus answered at last.

A lot of things were hurting him, but saying so would only fuel the other man's outrage so Seto tamed his tongue. That explained the shackles on his wrists, but those on his ankles hadn't given him nearly as much grief. There was a reason Pegasus removed those as well. His mind spun with questions. If this really was a test, one toe out of line would be enough to send him back to the dungeon.

He felt his body grow cold and his mind drift to leave it behind. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this hopeless. He supposed he'd pointedly repressed it, wrongly thinking that it was all in the past. So far gone it couldn't reach to burn him anymore.

He shuddered, not coherent enough to care if Pegasus saw.

He had to force himself to focus on the rest of the man's words in the slim chance they mattered. "I understand your wanting to run, and eventually you'll understand my wanting to bring you back. I don't want to hurt you to keep you here, Seto. I knew it would be hard for you to swallow but I never expected..."

The words died on his lips and Seto doubted he'd ever hear the end of the thought.

He hated to admit he'd lost the nerve to be angry, but he knew he'd never vocalize half the inferno behind his own eyes. He chanced a hard look into Pegasus's just the same, gripped by raw fear at the hallowed iris staring back.

How could this man have captured him? Seto tilted back to the window but his vision blurred. He had heard Pegasus, the masked apology behind the words, but he also remembered all of the comments from before. Like hell he didn't want to hurt him.

 _Pad them with something interesting, rusted nails, barbed wire._

 _It won't be any fun if you do the work for me._

 _I'm quite enjoying myself ... I wanted you._

 _Do you think it would be hard for me to keep you too drugged to resist?_

 _The harder you fight back, the further you'll push me into staging a throw away threat to Little Mokuba._

Pegasus was just like all the others, looking at Seto and seeing an object, a prize, something to be tamed. Even after last night, after everything, Pegasus still expected Seto to stay, and not only to stay, but to understand whatever skewed logic was behind it.

Seto hadn't been this off his game since Gozaburo. It always came back to him.

He shook his head and stood, heading for the bathroom in fear that he would crack and let out the flood of emotions that one night hadn't been able to dam. Pegasus didn't move as he walked by, and Seto closed the door behind him.

His forehead fell forward on the door as he clenched his teeth and told himself that he was better than this. Seto controlled himself, not Pegasus, not the threat of Gozaburo. He couldn't go back to being a tamed pet at his master's side. He won. Those days were left in memory.

Resting against the door didn't cool him down, so Seto walked to the vanity and stared at his reflection. Blue eyes returned his stare, and Seto couldn't deny the apparent horror behind them. He couldn't do this again.

Seto never heard the door, so he assumed Pegasus waited for him. He didn't stay hidden long, but noticed with regret the red splotch that had broken out across his neck, branching out over the cut and the stitches. Just another sign of his weakness.

With one long, slow, and heavy exhale, Seto met his gaze once more. Pegasus couldn't have him. Not any more than he did.

And with that promise, Seto went back into the bedroom and to his spot by the window, standing this time.

"Okay. You've said your piece."

So leave.

Pegasus stayed seated at first, feeling no need to match the power stance. He nodded once to steel himself before pushing to his feet and crossing the room for Seto's plate.

"And you've done your sulking," he said, holding it out with both hands. Seto's eyes narrowed to it before finding Pegasus's defiant, refusing to accept the offer. He had no appetite for it anyway. "If you want me to leave, take your breakfast." Pegasus didn't reach out to Seto any further, and only engaged him by holding his stare. "Pick at it all afternoon if you have to. I can't make you eat. I won't hold you down to fix those stitches, though we might as well take them out at this rate." Seto moved an arm slightly and Pegasus could feel him praying he wouldn't realize what it was supposed to accomplish. Nudging a white collar would do little to cover fresh blood, even if he could get it to lay correctly.

Instead of indulging Pegasus further, Seto moved until the back of his legs pressed against the bed and sat down on it, scooting back by the window. When he was ready, he broke away from Pegasus's gaze and resumed staring at the wall.

As Pegasus followed his lead, setting the plate in his lap and humming intently to show he wasn't going anywhere, Seto mentally constructed the exact shade of green in Mokuba's bedroom.

He spoke again, probably nudging him to follow the mundane order, but he drowned out the voice by mapping the space on the wall between Mokuba's bookshelf and the posters that hung to the left, just over his TV.

It didn't take long for Pegasus to fold, which was worse than if he hadn't.

"If you don't want it, I'm taking it with me."

And he did without another word.


	11. Chapter 11

The door closed and the deadbolt sounded, leaving Seto trapped again. The fear vanished as soon as Pegasus had gone, anger boiling in its place. He knew he was acting ridiculous. Instead of moping, he should have been scouring the room for any sort of escape. They'd find the things he had been planning to use, sooner than Seto hoped if Pegasus sent someone to clean away the blood.

Pegasus might come back then, angry and with restraints.

Seto took the guards off his wrists and grabbed the Lanacane. It gave him something to focus on, a task calling his attention from the inevitability of his escape plans being discovered. If he had been able to get the chains off, he could have burned down the door. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten to a phone, but it might have prevented Pegasus's episode.

He moved on to his ankles. The last time he assumed Pegasus would stay away for a while, he had been wrong. This time, he felt more confident in carrying the same opinion.

Seto's stomach growled. The smell of the food sickened him when Pegasus had brought it in, but Pegasus had left.

He had an idea and decided to test it.

Seto recapped the medicine and set it on the windowsill. Before trying anything, Seto washed his hands, then headed to the door to knock three times. He kept the knocks quiet to gauge how close the nearest guard was posted.

It took a few seconds, but he received a harsh "What?" from the other side.

"I changed my mind. I am hungry," he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard through the door.

Seto's only response was footsteps. He took it to mean the guard would at least relay the message, hopefully to Croquet and not Pegasus. After dismissing the food Pegasus offered, Seto didn't want to know how he would take asking for the same thing from someone else.

While he waited, he sat on the floor and stretched. If the guards were that close, getting out could mean fighting, and Seto wasn't going to let his body waste away before he got his chance.

* * *

Pegasus's other men were used to unusual work, but it wasn't the nature of the crime that made them uneasy. Four days was pushing it in a normal abduction; with a high profile victim it was practically suicide. Croquet became the go-between for every action they were unsure of. Crawford seemed immune to logical thinking and careful planning, and though he tended to downplay his frightening repertoire of revisions, they would do nothing against throngs of men and media who intended to do what Pegasus should have with Seto Kaiba. He was inexperienced. Too attached.

It was common in their trade to be more afraid of one's boss than the consequences of getting caught. Despite his seemingly clueless mistakes, that rang true here. Pegasus may not have told them what his end game was, and changed his mind several times about the level of harm meant to come to his keepsake, but he was capable of unspeakable things.

No one dared cross him.

"Kid wants food," Branning called to Croquet, bridging the gap between his station a few feet from Seto's door, and Croquet's at the end of the hall by the stairwell.

The head of security had seen his master leave with Seto's breakfast, but remembered his seething anger at the idea of the boy not receiving it on time. Ultimately, he wanted him to eat. If the food was a game, he'd rather take that hit than the inevitable storm of fire and brimstone if he became too weak for whatever Pegasus wanted.

"I'll get it," he said. "He won't be back until tonight, but if you get any trouble tell him it was me."

With that he turned and disappeared down the stairs, prompting the guard stationed halfway down the flight to take his post until he returned. If Seto chanced an escape with only one visible guard, he'd have too much adrenaline, and too much leverage on a set of stairs not to get farther than they intended.

He gathered the food quickly and without much thought. Dry toast, scrambled eggs, grapes, and cantaloupe. He had to make a second entry into the kitchen to tuck Seto's bottled water under his free arm.

A handful of minutes passed as he made his way to Seto's door. He replaced the food exactly where it had been left earlier, turning to the boy as he laid the bottle of water on its side. He thought to give Pegasus's regards, but didn't in case he decided to flaunt his anger, or worse, punish Seto for the manipulation later.

It was a slim chance, but not one he wanted to take. So he waited a moment to see if the boy would say anything. Even 'thank you.'

Something to relay to Pegasus would soften the blow, for both of them.

 _Croquet. Not Pegasus_ , Seto thought.

He seemed expectant, lingering with his hand on the door and staring at Seto, still on the floor stretching.

"I would have eaten earlier if I had been hungry," Seto said, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself. Something about the set of Croquet's mouth read of anxiety, and Seto matched the expression to Isono's face when he had bad news.

And Croquet had stepped between Pegasus and him after the incident, a small gesture, but one Seto appreciated. It hardly seemed fair to potentially punish Croquet after that, so Seto added a short, "Sorry," but turned away right after. A foreign word to him, and Seto thought he delivered it with a touch more sarcasm than needed.

Croquet simply inclined his head and left. Seto waited for the deadbolt and started breathing again when he heard it.

He took a break from stretching to carry the food over to the window. The water set on the windowsill and the plate on his plate, Seto surveyed the meal and decided to eat exactly a third of it, all of the eggs and a few pieces of fruit. He couldn't play off becoming starved in under ten minutes. Not eating half might temper Pegasus if this offended him.

Seto wasn't ready to offend him. He knew when he would be—after getting out of this room and putting out a call, email, smoke signal to someone on the mainland. And they had to know he would try something. The guard was posted too close to the door.

Seto's appetite called for more, but he stopped himself at the set limit. They would likely bring him lunch or dinner at some point, so he could hold out until then. He finished off the water bottle before standing again, putting the plate and the empty bottle in the spot he had gotten them from.

With his first test of the day completed, Seto began to take inventory. He doubted it would appear as suspicious as investigating the cell, so he didn't flinch when the door opened a while later with his next meal.

Not Pegasus.

So Seto kept searching until the sky pinked. He did a search for any cameras or recording devices first but came up empty handed. After Pegasus's insistence with the camera before, he had expected to find one. His fingers trailed along all the stone bricks, feeling for any discernible variance among them. That also turned up nothing. The bars on the windows, bedroom and bathroom, wouldn't budge.

After searching and coming up with almost nothing helpful, Seto headed to the bathroom. The shower curtain rod was screwed into the wall, but given time, he could get it off. The tank cover on the toilet was heavy enough that if Seto needed a weapon to knock out a guard, it would suffice. But he didn't want to risk that unless necessary for fear of going back to a room with a bucket.

And then there was the mirror. His hand already hurt, covered with various injuries. Punching a mirror into shatters wouldn't make much of a difference.

* * *

It was dark when Pegasus returned from San Francisco. He was almost too drained to see Seto by the time he walked through the castle doors, fingers resting on the knot of his tie for a moment before he decided against removing it. Business was long, and nicety maddening, but he couldn't show it. Neglecting to represent Industrial Illusions, especially at a benefit he had personally accepted the invitation to months prior, had never been an option. Keeping Seto from seeing the strain in his features was even less negotiable.

As he made his way up the stairs with the usual err of confidence, he silently celebrated his ability to work from home for a while. He needed time to recharge.

"Master Pegasus," Croquet greeted with the usual nod, which Pegasus returned.

"Everything went as planned," he assured him. "Small guest list, familiar faces." He'd heard about every risk in the book, several times, when he told the man to stay behind and keep an eye on Seto.

Croquet still looked uneasy, but nodded again in response. "I'm glad to hear it sir."

Pegasus didn't have the energy to press the man about what might be bothering him, so he pushed forward figuring he'd find out soon enough. Even looking at Seto's door made his stomach turn. He wasn't up for arguing or talking in circles. It had only been a few days, he knew, but he was already anxious for the nights he'd come home without being affronted by tension and misery. Longed for midnight conversations about overly-enthusiastic employees, beautiful weather, movie trailers that had been exaggerated just enough to pique their interest.

And, when the time came, drafting sessions. Insight into new creatures and the stories Seto made, had to have been making from the time he was a boy, to accompany them. Glimpses of who he was beneath the trauma and the tragedy. Of the life they could have if they both learned to control their raging impulses and touchy fight or flight response.

He knocked before he entered, pushing into the room to see Seto in the middle of a meal. He almost turned to give him privacy to finish, but was drawn back to the plate when he realized what he was eating.

"You must like that," he said brightly, gesturing to the mostly eaten sandwich in Seto's hand. He finished chewing, not bothering to nod.

The rest of breakfast was on the bathroom sink, behind the closed door, where Pegasus hopefully wouldn't notice it.

The sandwich was easier to handle with the wrist guards, which were bulkier than the under armor he was used to and impeded his use of utensils. It also helped to imagine Mokuba had made it rather than one of Pegasus's lackeys. He found himself halfway through before he realized he'd gotten any of it down.

Pegasus hadn't brought the folding chair this time, but seemed content to stand, at least for now.

"Have you looked at the stars?" Pegasus asked softly, stepping further into the room, silvery light cascading the length of his hair. "They are a lot out tonight."

Seto put the plate aside once Pegasus started walking forward. He set it purposefully on top of the used tube of Lanacane so Pegasus wouldn't notice Seto had taken advantage of the medicine. At least he had gotten the wrist guards on in time. The more the skin healed, the worse it looked, scabbing over in a near-solid ring almost three inches wide.

Pegasus reached the window just feet from Seto, so Seto stood and took a few steps away. He didn't seem upset. Either he didn't know about the escape plans and breakfast debacle, or it hadn't bothered him.

"I have," Seto said. He didn't admire them as Pegasus did, but had noticed the visibility without Domino's pollution. Mokuba liked stargazing and Seto wondered if he had been able to see them while here.

While Pegasus's back was turned, Seto glanced to the door. It wasn't locked, but he doubted he would make it more than a few steps if he tried to run. He would have to get a weapon first, the mirror shards whenever he got around to breaking it.

He crossed his arms only to realize it put his more prominent scar on display. There wasn't a way to cross them to keep it hidden, not unless he wanted to wrap his arms across his stomach in what he knew would be too vulnerable of a position.

He let them hang at his sides and waited for Pegasus to do something other than gaze out the barred window.

"You didn't think much of them, I take it," Pegasus replied, not waiting for Seto's answer. He shrugged as if to say 'it's all right, they're not for everyone,' before stepping away from the window and putting a reasonable distance between them.

"Do you read much?"

Seto scoffed. Not in here.

Pegasus sighed, bowing his head in mock concession, "Has anyone ever told you, you take yourself too seriously? Come now, you must have a favorite author, or genre? Maybe you're a movie person."

If it was possible, Seto seemed more encumbered by conversation than he was. He supposed the situation lowered his tolerance for small talk, but he wasn't exactly screaming for deep, dark answers either. At least, not yet. Knowing his stubbornness, their night was still young.

He took in the full picture of Seto in pajamas for lack of anything better to do. The younger seemed to be pondering his response, as if a favorite author would somehow mean full disclosure of classified information. Pegasus bit back his own smirk. Both pieces of clothing hung loose around his frame, lanky but filling out. His shoulders had broadened since they first met, and there was distinct stubble around his chin and neck that hadn't been there before. He made a mental note to get a razor for the bathroom.

Most of Seto's fingernails had been worn down or broken in the struggle, but his hands, unlike Pegasus's after the eye, didn't carry the rusty stains of blood. Kaiba was meticulous in everything, especially cleanliness.

Suddenly it occured to him that Seto smelled different, like one of those signature candles women liked to compare to the ocean. It was an improvement from the sourness of acid, but he still had to wonder what Seto usually showered with. Not that he'd ever ask.

The boy's skin was a maze of dark circles and white, faded lines in places that had been easy to hide from the public. Pegasus felt his stomach bottom out with thoughts of what had been done to him, some purely speculative based on the size and shape of the scar, others distant memories of mind probes in duelist kingdom.

He opened his mouth, hundreds of questions fighting for dominance, but was cut off by Seto's voice.

"Biographies," Seto said. Pegasus had been staring at him too long, his gaze centered on the bare skin of his arms for the last few seconds. His eye bounced from left to right and back. He had seen them. He knew.

There were plenty of books and types of books Seto preferred over what he suggested, but biographies came to mind first. And maybe throwing out a suggestion would distract from Seto himself. Pegasus claimed he wanted Seto's mind, so he would be better off putting the focus there.

And Seto wanted something to pass the time. He didn't intend on staying locked up for long, but until he found a way through the door, he could read.

After Seto finished speaking, his one word not enough of a distraction, Pegasus's attention moved lower, back to Seto's arms. It took all his willpower not to try hiding them. It was too late for that.

Suggesting movies wouldn't get him anywhere. Knowing Pegasus, he would wheel in a television or bring in a portable DVD player and insist on watching them together. Books were safer because Seto couldn't be expected to talk while reading. Pegasus seemed like the type to provide running commentary on movies or constantly check to see if Seto enjoyed the film.

He didn't trust Pegasus's taste in fiction.

"Or anything nonfiction."

Giving a genre didn't necessarily mean that Pegasus would bring him a book, but it was something. He hadn't minded the newspapers that eventually would get Seto into trouble. Knowing what books Seto liked to read wouldn't give him any insight into Seto's mind, so he had to be asking for ideas on how to occupy Seto's time.

Pegasus knew he was staring but couldn't break away from the scars. Seto's skin was littered with them the way some people's was littered with freckles. Suddenly anything he'd ever done to the man, from shaking his hand to extending the file he dropped in many a conference room, felt impossibly rough. He knew Seto wasn't going to break from touch, he probably wouldn't break from the words threatening to fly free from his mouth, but that didn't stop the rage building in his stomach at the thought of what he'd endured.

He blinked, forcing his gaze upward, though not into Seto's eyes for fear of what his own might relay. He settled for the view out the window again, just to Seto's left.

"Biographies," he repeated distractedly. "Anyone in particular? Historical figures, musicians, men of our trade? Some of our endeavors are as old as time itself." He looked at Seto to find him looking back intently, studying him. He knew what searching looked like, though Seto didn't make the same checks he did. His were the expected places. Eyes. Lips. Pockets. Doors.

Their eyes met, and Seto's expression faded into something neutral. Too late, Pegasus nearly taunted, but stopped himself. What Seto looked for was none of his concern. There were several measures in place to ensure any escape he made would be brief. Persistence might work better than punishment.

He winced at the word.

Punishment.

Scars.

His gaze traveled back to them. It would be polite to let Seto answer his previous question before he swamped him with new ones, so he waited with anxious tongue and eager hands, stuffed promptly into pockets.

 _Stop looking at me._

 _Stop fucking looking._

The instinct to fight clawed at Seto's mind, working its way down to his fingers, twitching at his sides. His scars which Pegasus's attention seemed latched to weren't a sign of weakness, and his mind and body were desperate to prove that. Most of the scars weren't even from violence, well, not in terms of Gozaburo. The cigar burns had been given almost idly toward the end.

He hated this, all of this. Didn't Pegasus remember who he was? A change of venue, of clothing, of power didn't change Seto as a person. Seto didn't know what expression he hated more, the current pity or the distant longing from the night before.

Flight kicked in as the words "let her go" drifted back into his thoughts. The door was open. Even retreating to the bathroom would get rid of the gaze locked on his arms. But running was weakness.

He pressed his lips together to keep from smirking when he realized that Pegasus actually might think keeping him hidden from Gozaburo was a favor, that he should be grateful for the forced help. Seto wasn't afraid of Gozaburo, but he was terrified of seeing _that_ look in Pegasus's eye.

"It doesn't matter," Seto said after remembering he had been asked a question.

 _The scars don't matter._

"It's odd you should mention them, actually. I finished one not a month ago at the request of a fan, on the life of Oscar Wilde. Are you familiar with him?"

Their eyes met and Seto nodded immediately to keep Pegasus's from wandering. He had, but wasn't thrilled with the notion of having his first book be one Crawford had already dissected. Truth be told, the man could've cured cancer and been just as interesting, which was to say not at all. He knew what passion and good work-ethic could do for a person. Underneath, nearly all success could be traced back to the same things.

"But you're a man of science," Pegasus continued, trying to keep himself distracted, "Which I'm ashamed to know little about. Maybe I'll bring you something on Newton, or Einstein." He lowered his gaze just a little, to Seto's chin, and wracked his brain for other names. He felt like a high school student again. "I suppose there's nonfiction to consider as well. You might have your own library by the time I finish."

Every lull in conversation gave way to angry thoughts, growing louder as time passed. A sultry voice asking what they'd done to him. _Do you want me to do the same to them, Seto? I would, for you. Do you want to help—put that catharsis to proper use?_ His expression darkened for a brief moment before he forced the himself to focus.

"It's like getting blood from a stone with you." His dungeon walls would beg to differ. "Tell me this, if nothing else, we can even do that trading you're so fond of. Which was the last book to inspire you?"

Nausea worked its way up Seto's throat. This is what Pegasus chose to spend his time doing? He kidnapped Seto, took him from Mokuba, to discuss literature? With the nausea came the bubbling questions— _T_ _his is it? This is what you want with me?_ and Seto swallowed them back down.

Trading? What trade would it take to get away from here?

The enclosed sensation returned and Seto had to take a step away from Pegasus even though they weren't even within arm's reach to begin with. He wouldn't spend his time making idle chitchat with Pegasus.

Seto wanted to stay calm because of Pegasus's comment about Seto already having revealed too much, but every instinct in his body screamed for him to do something. He couldn't run. Pegasus wouldn't have made it as easy as leaving a door open, but he needed something, anything really.

He had answered Pegasus's questions to the extent he felt comfortable. There would be no further compromise.

"What is this?" Seto asked. His shoulder shrugged without his mind's consent and his voice raised to a pitch just above his normal.

Pegasus smiled softly. "I thought we'd be conventional for once and call it small talk. Until you take it beyond that."

He was sending messages Seto had no patience to dissect. Pegasus's games were so tired. If he wanted something remotely sane, which he might've known was too much to ask, Seto could've given it to get back to Mokuba. There was nothing Pegasus could take that wouldn't eventually find its way back to him. He knew his product, his investors, his business, like the back of his hand.

But Crawford already knew that.

That's why he'd separated them. Why he somehow convinced the most loyal employee Seto had to see them separated in the first place. He wanted to scream until the words dried out. What could Isono have been thinking to let either of them fall into Pegasus's hands? To take the gamble of Seto's life for him, without a single word, without any semblance of conversation.

He felt dread well up behind the anger.

Anything would've been better than this.

The words he never thought he'd say came again and again. Gozaburo would be better than this.

"I know you don't want to talk to me."

 _You have no idea—_

"But these are harmless little things. We can start there. You don't even have to start, Seto. Is there something you'd like to ask me?"

 _—what I want to do to you._

He closed his eyes, setting his jaw so hard the force threatened to shake his teeth from his mouth.

He couldn't do this.

 _Fuck_ this.


End file.
